Ask
by MissMe113
Summary: In their opinion, there had never been a better reason to solve a case. HB/ND
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own these characters. I do not get any money from this. Some may wonder why I do it. I know I do.**

**A/N: Greetings, my darlings! Has my absence made your hearts grow fonder? Did you miss me terribly? Stay awake at night dreaming of my clever wit and overuse of the oh-so-wonderful ellipsis? I bet you did. Well. I wish. Anyways.**

**What you are currently looking at, angels, is a brand new story in a brand new AU. Aren't you lucky?**

**Seriously, though, I'm about four chapters into it and busy busy busy so I'm not sure if I want to continue. But perhaps you guys can persuade me...?**

**BTW, this is definatly rated T. Don't think I'm joking, young ones. I'm not. BUT it is not pushing M. I don't go there. At least, not in front of people. Also…if you don't like this story…don't read it. Just sayin'. **

**(Frank/Nancy-24; Joe-23.)**

**Enjoy:**

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><p>Joe Hardy stared at the ceiling. As far as ceilings went, it was a pretty nice one. Pure white, none of that weird, speckled stuff. The only downside was that he had been looking at it for the past hour and a half.<p>

Rolling over, he stared at the alarm clock on his bedside table. The glowing red numbers told him that it was 5:10 a.m. It was Saturday.

It was 5:10 on a Saturday morning.

Why was he up?

Truthfully, he didn't know. He just had this feeling stirring in his stomach, this feeling of adrenaline pumping through his veins. It was like his body was telling him that he was supposed to be up and doing something, not wasting away in bed. He mentally went through a checklist in his head, trying to figure out if there was something he had forgotten to do, but it really didn't feel the same as the I-forgot-oh-shit-oh-shit! feeling.

Joe rolled over again and stared at the girl beside him. His girlfriend, Vanessa Bender, was sleeping peacefully, her face barely peeking out from behind a curtain of messy bed-head. He smiled a little and softly brushed away the strands of hair. She stirred slightly and sighed, making Joe's smile even bigger. However, watching her sleep just made him feel more awake.

Slowly, quietly, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and crept out of the room and into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and, after waiting a moment for the water to heat up (more like four minutes—the apartment complex they lived in was really old), he stepped under the steady (somewhat) stream of water. But even after a solid half an hour, he couldn't wash away the jumpy feeling he had. Sighing, he turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and snuck back into their bedroom so he could get dressed.

Since his departure, Vanessa had unfurled and stretched all the way across the bed, her 5'11" frame taking up almost the whole mattress. Joe grinned when he noticed and pulled on his jeans quietly before walking out into the living room and closing the door behind him.

He shuffled his way into the kitchen, the light streaming in through the windows barely enough to light the room. He contemplated turning on a light, but decided against it. In a few minutes, he'd be hunched over his work and would soon forget all about it.

He went through the motions of making coffee before pouring a considerable amount of cereal into a mixing bowl. Vanessa hated it when he did that, but it didn't stop him. After all, he was a growing boy and he needed his energy.

Joe fell backwards onto the couch and looked around for the remote. Groaning, he realized that it was on the coffee table, just out of reach. Instead of reaching for it, though, he put his feet up on the table and pulled the remote towards him. Using only his toes, he pushed the power button and the screen came to life. Noise blasted through the apartment and he hurried to turn down the volume. When he deemed it quiet enough, he flicked through the channels and finally landed on the Cartoon Network.

Joe grinned to himself and settled back, eating his cereal in big bites. He couldn't remember a single Saturday morning that hadn't been occupied by cartoons. It was a Saturday morning tradition and he wasn't about to stop anytime soon.

Looking down, Joe saw that the mixing bowl was empty and when he looked back up, he saw that an hour had passed. With a sigh, he turned the TV off and turned towards his desk, where stacks of folders and papers awaited him, piled neatly beside a pile of dull pencils and inkless pens. He brought his dishes to the kitchen and placed them in the sink before walking over to the desk.

He stood in front of the desk for a minute, just staring at all the work that was to be done, slowly building up the resolve he needed to finish it.

Finally, he pulled back the chair and sat down. And with a sigh and the jumpy feeling still rushing through his body, he bent his head over his paper and focused.

"Guuh."

"Morning, beautiful," Joe spun around his chair to face Vanessa. It was 10:19 a.m. and she had just woken up. He grinned as he took her in, from her messy, wavy blonde hair to her sleepy grey eyes to her flannel pajama bottoms and tank top.

"Ha ha," Vanessa grumbled, shuffling across the room and landing in his lap. Joe immediately wrapped his arms around her and she tucked her chin into his chest. He buried his nose in her long, sweet smelling hair and planted a kiss to the top of her head.

"I'm not kidding," he murmured in her ear. "You're adorable."

"I'm not in the mood to be schmoozed," Vanessa told him, closing her eyes. "Come see me in about an hour."

"I'll be at work in an hour," he replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. "And I want to schmooze you now."

"Dirty," Vanessa yawned, snuggling closer to Joe's chest. They had been dating for almost six years now and she was more comfortable with him than she was with her family. She didn't really know how to explain it, that feeling that made her feel like he could see right through everything she did and find the ulterior motive.

"I wish," Joe groaned, holding her tightly. "But Dad is being a dictator this week. We have a billion cases and he has Frank and I working double-time."

"Mean," Vanessa told him, finally opening her eyes and looking up at him. "I love your father and all, but he's keeping you away from me."

"Something will have to be done about him," Joe said solemnly.

"You've done enough detecting to stage the perfect murder, haven't you?" Vanessa questioned, wrapping her arms around Joe's neck. He grinned at her.

"They'll call us Leopold and Loeb," Joe replied, bending his neck so he could kiss her. She smiled into the kiss and after a moment they broke away, touching their foreheads together.

"Hi," Vanessa whispered, smiling. Joe smiled back.

"Hi," he whispered. "I kinda sorta like you."

"I'm quite fond of you, too," Vanessa murmured, kissing him again before untangling herself from him and standing up. She stretched, her fingers grazing the ceiling of the apartment they shared, and yawned again.

"Damn time changes," she sighed, walking towards the kitchen. Joe watched her retreating figure and grinned before turning back to his desk. Laid out in front of him were about seven case files, the contents of which were spilled all over the surface. He groaned inwardly and bent over the papers, staring hard as if the answers would jump out at him.

He and his brother Frank had been solving cases since childhood, but they had only joined their father's practice a few years ago. The work was more intense than what he was used to (petty theft and missing people), but he loved every minute of it, despite how often he complained. And his brother Frank loved it too, again, despite how often Joe complained. Over the past twenty-three years of Joe's life, Frank had learned how to deal with his brother; how to deal with all of his ramblings and complaints. Everyone who met them said it; they had never seen brothers with a bond as strong as Frank and Joe's.

"How long have you been up?" Vanessa called from the kitchen, pulling Joe away from his work again. He glanced up at the clock on the wall behind him and grimaced.

"About five hours," Joe whined, running a hand through his blond hair.

"I'm so sorry," Vanessa gasped from the kitchen. "Have you at least had some coffee?"

"Only about seventeen cups," Joe called out to her, twirling a pen between his fingers. "Which I will regret once I have to go to the bathroom seventeen times."

"Poor baby," Vanessa consoled and Joe grinned, standing up and stretching. He relished in the feeling for a moment before shuffling into the kitchen and leaning against the wall. Vanessa was standing in front of the kitchen sink, standing on her tip-toes to grab a mug from the cupboard despite being far tall enough to reach. Joe couldn't grin at how undeniably cute she looked, sleepy and sexy all at the same time. He knew how lucky he was to have Vanessa in his life and he would never, _ever_ take her for granted. He learned that particular lesson after the death of his girlfriend Iola.

He had literally let her slip through his fingers; let her walk straight into her death. He would never forgive himself for letting her go alone, or letting her go at all. Instead, he focused all his energy on Vanessa, as if trying to prove to Iola that he was sorry for not protecting her and that it would never happen again.

Vanessa pulled the mug down and Joe stepped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. Vanessa set the mug down on the counter and spun around so they were face to face. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a deep kiss. Joe smiled into the kiss and pulled her flush against him.

No more than a few minutes could have passed before the phone rang. Joe groaned and pulled away, resting his forehead against Vanessa's.

"The price of being popular," he moaned, giving her another quick kiss. "I'll get it." She nodded and kissed him back.

"Good," she replied, "because I haven't had my coffee yet and no one is safe. Except you."

He winked at her and crossed the living room towards the phone.

"Hello?" he answered, leaning against the wall. He listened carefully to what the person on the other side was saying and he could literally feel the blood rushing out of his cheeks. He slid to the floor, the phone still pressed to his ear, in shock. "You're lying. No. No, that can't be true."

He wasn't even horrified when he felt tears slipping down his cheeks. He hung his head and let them flow freely.

"Joe?" Vanessa called from the kitchen, peering around the corner and dropping her mug when she saw her boyfriend huddled on the floor. "Oh, my God! What's the matter?"

Joe shook his head fiercely, wiping his eyes on his sleeves.

"Joe, sweetie?" Vanessa whispered, her lip trembling. She reached out cautiously and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Get the newspaper," Joe hiccupped into her neck. "Please."

"What's wrong?" She demanded gently. "Joe, you're scaring me."

"Please get the paper," he whispered and she obliged nervously, sliding the dead bolt and unlocking the front door. She poked her head outside and picked the newspaper off of the front mat before returning to where he was and sitting cross-legged in front of him.

He practically ripped it from her hands, the phone dropping to the floor. He tore through the pages quickly before stopping. Tears splattered against the paper and the ink ran slightly. Joe shoved the paper towards his girlfriend and picked the phone back up.

Vanessa stared at the words in front of her, not understanding why Joe was so upset. Suddenly, a name caught her eye.

"Oh, Joe…"

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><p>Frank Hardy stirred in his sleep, pulling the covers up towards his chin. He could have sworn he felt something poke him in his side, but he ignored it and focused on sleep (sweet, sweet sleep) instead.<p>

The poking persisted and he groaned, rolling over and wrenching his eyelids apart. To his great surprise (and utter mortification—had he snored? Drooled? Talked in his sleep?), Nancy Drew was standing beside his bed and leaning towards him. Her strawberry blonde hair was falling messily in her face and her blue eyes gleaming.

"Nan?" he croaked, sitting up and wincing as the sheets fell down and exposed his bare chest to the drafty air in his hotel room. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she told him, tucking her hair behind her ears. Frank nodded and leaned back against the headboard, slightly dazed with sleep. She waited patiently for him to respond, but instead he let his head droop to the side, making Nancy sigh. She poked him in the chest and his eyes flew open at the sensation her fingers on his skin caused.

"Then what are you doing here?" he asked finally, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He kept his voice down as to not wake up his brother Joe, who was asleep in the next bed.

"I'm feeling mischievous," she admitted and motioned for him to scoot over. When he did, she sat down next to him and pulled her knees up to her chest. "I feel like breaking some rules."

"You feel like breaking some rules?" he whispered incredulously. "_You_ feel like breaking some rules? You feel like _breaking_ some _rules_?"

"Yes," she rolled her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair, making it even messier than it already was. Frank looked at her curiously. She was just sitting there, in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy ankle socks. Her skin was glowing in the pale blue light coming from the windows and the red in her hair seemed more pronounced. Her face was clean of makeup, save for a trace of mascara that she couldn't get off before she went to bed. Despite himself, Frank couldn't help but think she was beautiful. Not that he had never thought that before. He had always known that Nancy was a beautiful, beautiful girl but suddenly his whole mind and body was thinking it; his entire being was consumed with her overwhelming beauty.

"Why?" Frank asked, dumbfounded. "You love rules. Rules love you. You and rules have had quite a happy relationship before now."

"I don't know," Nancy admitted, falling backwards against the headboard and stretching her legs out in front of her. Frank followed the movement with his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself. "I was just lying in my bed, thinking, and suddenly it struck me. I've never broken a rule. I've never done anything crazy or wild in my life."

"That's not true," Frank snorted. "You've saved lives. You've captured criminals. You've been kidnapped. That's not what I call tame."

"That's not what I mean," Nancy persisted. "I mean, I'll always have a great story to tell but will I ever get to tell my kids about that one time I got so hammered I couldn't walk? Or the night that I stayed out so late that I had to climb in through my bedroom window? No. I'll get to tell them I had good grades, a nice boyfriend, great friends and, as a past-time, I occasionally put people in jail. They won't learn anything from any of that! They'll just think, 'Gee, Mom was a loser. I don't want to be anything like her.'"

"So…" Frank rubbed his eyes. "You want to break a rule…for the sake of your future children?"

"Yes," Nancy said solemnly. "I want them to know that their mother was more than just a law-abiding, helpful citizen."

"But that's who you are," Frank pointed out with a grin. "You can't change who you are, Nance."

"I know," she told him, tucking back her hair as it fell towards her eyes. "But I…I don't know. Just…stop questioning me. Do something crazy with me."

Frank felt his heart start hammering in his chest. "Like what?"

"I don't know," Nancy admitted. "But something!" She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, stretching her arms up over her head. Frank rested his eyes on her legs shamelessly (it was two a.m., okay?) and pushed back the covers.

"I'll be right back," Nancy told him, disappearing through the door in their adjoining rooms. "Get dressed!"

Frank nodded numbly, his body moving mechanically as he pulled on yesterday's jeans and t-shirt. He sat back down on his bed so he could pull on his shoes and then ran a hand through his hair.

He was about to do something crazy with Nancy. Nancy, one of his best friends. Not his girlfriend.

The thought made his head shoot up. Nancy was not his girlfriend. What was he doing?

_You're helping out a friend_, the voice in his head told him. Frank rolled his eyes and rested his head in the palms of his head.

Almost as long as he had known Nancy, she had had Ned and he had had Callie. They had always been in relationships. There had never been a time when they had both been single and willing to give it a shot. They both acknowledged that the bond between them was different—somehow more special and easy than any other bond they had. But there had always been those factors: Callie and Ned.

And now, while a part of him (a HUGE part) wanted so badly to go with Nancy, to just grab her hand and run with her and do whatever she wanted to do, another part (smaller, but more rational) told him that _no_, he could not just run away and break rules with someone who was not his girlfriend.

Frank glanced over at his brother, sleeping in a way that occupied most of the bed and his blond hair sticking up as if he had been electrocuted. He briefly toyed with the idea of waking him up and bringing him along as a chaperone, but decide quickly against it when Nancy reappeared, a pair of shorts covering her legs and her t-shirt rolled up to normal length.

"Ready?" she whispered, looking directly into his eyes in a way that made his heart leap and his stomach groan with uneasiness.

"Ready," he nodded, grabbing his key card off of the bedside table and putting it in his pocket. He followed Nancy as she opened the door to the small, drafty hotel room and walked into the hall. He shut the door as quietly as he could behind him but the miniscule creaking noise made him wince.

"Where are we going?" he asked Nancy, who had begun walking towards the elevator. "Do we need money? Because I left mine in the room and-."

"No, we don't need money," Nancy told him with a grin. "The whole point of this is to be bad."

"So…are we gonna pull a Thelma and Louise?" Frank questioned, furrowing his brow.

"Maybe," Nancy shrugged, pressing the 'G' button on the panel. "Maybe not."

"Intrigue," Frank replied, raising his eyebrows. "You really don't have a plan, do you?"

"Nope," Nancy replied, looking up at him. "I haven't thought a single thing through. I haven't even decided if I really wanted to get in this elevator."

"Huh," Frank nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Nancy may not have been thinking, but Frank's mind was working in overdrive. A million thoughts were running through his head. Where were they going? What were they going to do? Why did Nancy ask them? Why didn't she bring up Joe? Did this mean something? What?

The elevator ping-ed as it came to a stop on the first floor and the pair cautiously got out. The lobby was around the corner and there was sure to be someone at the desk.

"What now?" Frank mouthed, poking Nancy in the shoulder. She looked around, studying her surroundings before her face lit up and she grabbed his hand, dragging him down the hallway leading away from the lobby.

"Where are we going?" Frank mumbled, skidding to a sudden stop. Nancy had lead him to the door to the pool area.

"We're going swimming," Nancy replied cheerfully. She looked around the hallway and attempted to see through the tinted windows around the door to the pool, but it was too dark.

"But the pool is closed," Frank pointed out. "Swimming hours are from nine to…oh."

"Oh indeed," Nancy smirked, leaning down in front of the lock. She examined it carefully; it was a lock door and you had to get the key from the front desk if you wanted to use the pool. "Can you pick it?" she asked, looking up at him. Frank shrugged and knelt down beside her, staring intently at the lock.

"I think so," Frank responded. "Do you have a bobby pin or something?"

Nancy ran her fingers through her hair and came out with the pin that had been holding her bangs away from her face. They immediately swung towards her eyes and she batted them away with an impatient hand.

Frank stuck the pin into the lock and wiggled it around. He could feel Nancy watching him and tried his best to open the door quickly. Every nerve in his body was screaming for him to stop—it was against the rules, after all. What if they got kicked out of the hotel? Or the police came? He doubted they would, but the worrying part of his brain wouldn't listen and instead focused on spitting out unlikely scenarios that could befall them.

Suddenly, the lock turned with a click and Nancy gave a little wiggle of excitement. "Nice work," she told him, getting to her feet and gracefully sashaying into the pool area. Frank followed slowly, making sure the door closed silently and was securely locked.

The pool at the hotel they were staying at was nice, as far as hotel pools go. It was long and deep, with two diving boards at the far end. The area surrounding it was littered with chairs and tables. There were pictures of jaunty little fish on the fall, smiling as they swam. Frank rolled his eyes at the décor before turning his attention back towards the pool.

"So," Nancy grinned, staring at him. "Here is our dangerous, rule breaking pool. Nice, right? Not so bad that we'll get in major trouble, but still a story."

"Indeed it is," Frank nodded, a thought suddenly distracting him. He was about to get in the pool. With Nancy. He did not have a bathing suit.

"So," she said and Frank cut in.

"Nan, I don't have my bathing suit," Frank told her. "I didn't even think to pack one; I thought we'd be too busy with the case."

In response, Nancy gave him a small, nervous smile. Suddenly, to Frank's great shock and awe, she began to wiggle out of her shorts. Then, with a deep breath, she raised her arms up in the air and pulled her shirt over her head. And then, she just stood there. Nancy Drew, one of Frank's best friends, had just stripped off her clothing in front of him and was now simply standing there in a pair of dark blue underwear and a pink bra.

He couldn't even say anything. Frank's mouth dried up and, though he wished he could, he couldn't pull his eyes away from her. He felt like a dirty, cheating pig but he knew that he would never see this again. Nancy Drew. In her underwear. And they were alone.

With a big smile and a deep breath, Nancy walked towards the edge of the pool and Frank's eyes were glued on her the whole time. His whole body was shaking in an effort not to fall apart in front of her. He closed his eyes for a moment, and the next thing he knew he heard a splash. Opening his eyes, he saw Nancy submerged in water.

She surfaced and pushed her hair back, grinning widely at him. "Are you coming in?" she called quietly, her voice bouncing off of the walls.

Frank thought intensely. On one side, he had Callie. He had this whole, stable relationship with a great, pretty, smart girl that he cared about deeply. But on the other side…there was Nancy. A girl he that had known forever, who matched his every move and made him feel whole.

"Frank?" she called out, her smile wavering a bit.

Everything she had said about following the rules, not having a lesson or a good memory, it was true for Frank, too. He knew that Joe did crazy stuff like this all the time, but he never had. He had never really seen any point until Nancy came up with one. It may not have been the strongest point, but it was true. And it was a rush, thinking about it. He was about to jump into a pool, in his underwear, with a girl who was not his girlfriend.

Without a second thought, Frank pulled his t-shirt over his head, very aware that Nancy's eyes were watching him do so. He slipped out of his jeans and walked to the far side of the pool.

He climbed up the ladder to the diving board and stood at the top for a moment. Waiting below him was Nancy. Waiting at home was Callie.

_Don't do it!_ His rational brain cried.

He dove in headfirst.

When he surfaced, he came face to face with Nancy. She gave him a huge smile and swam a little closer to him.

_Uh oh_, he thought as she swam closer. His mind was blurring around the edges and soon he couldn't be held responsible for his actions. In a move of pure desperation, he splashed a tidal wave of water towards her. She blinked and laughed before splashing him back. Within seconds it had become a full on splash war and they were biting their lips to keep from laughing too loudly.

But as suddenly as it started, it ended and they were face to face again, breathing heavily.

Frank's stomach was twisting in knots. They were swimming around each other now, unconsciously getting closer and closer as they did. He thought his heart would burst from him chest when she slowly, tentatively raised her hand and placed it on his chest. Their feet bumped together and Frank felt like every nerve in his body was on fire. Unthinkingly, he had put his hand on her waist and nearly died at the feeling of her skin curving under his.

Suddenly, their faces were very close together. Nancy's breath was warm on his wet skin and he felt his eyelashes flutter.

"Kiss me," she whispered. "Just…kiss m-."

Before she even finished her sentence, his lips were on hers.

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><p>Frank woke with a start, a cold sweat glistening on his skin. He hadn't dreamt of that night in <em>ages<em>, so why was he thinking of it now? It had to have been five years ago, but the memory—the feeling, the emotions—was fresh in his mind, as if it had happened yesterday.

He slapped a hand on the alarm clock next to him and successfully silenced the voice of Bayport's most annoying morning radio DJ.

He ran a hand through his dark brown hair and turned over to look at his fiancée, who was stretching her arms over her head and yawning.

"Morning, hon," she smiled, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "Do you want the bathroom first?"

"Uh, yeah," he replied, dazed. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes and pushed the sheets off of his legs and standing up. He had a jumpy feeling running through him. At first, Frank thought it was just from being caught off guard with the dream, but it wasn't a feeling that he had ever experienced before.

Ignoring it, he stumbled towards the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He turned on the shower and jumped in, letting the hot water rush over his skin. Frank sighed and closed his eyes, remembering the dream. A small smile came to his face and bit his lip to keep it from growing.

When he had finished showering and getting dressed, he walked slowly down the stairs, still feeling like he was rushed up on adrenaline. He crossed the living room and turned into the kitchen.

Callie was standing over the stove, her old bathrobe wrapped around her t-shirt and pajama shorts. Her feet were stuffed into a pair of blue slippers and her blonde hair was tied up in a messy ponytail.

"Coffee?" she asked, not looking up from the pancake she was flipping.

"Not today," Frank told her, walking around her to get a mug from the cupboard. "Tea, I think. I'm feeling kind of jumpy."

"Oh, yeah?" she replied, handing him a plate with a stack of pancakes on it. Staring at her, he put both the mug and the plate on the counter and gently put his hands on her face, pulling her up towards him so he could kiss her. He still felt _so guilty_ about that night and dreaming about it made him feel like he had been cheating on her all over again.

_You didn't cheat on her_, Frank told himself sternly. _Not really, anyways._

Callie wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him back, smiling into his lips.

"Well," she grinned. "Good morning, indeed." Frank smiled at her and kissed her again. When they broke away, he grabbed her hands and held them.

"I'm going to burn the pancakes," she grinned.

"That's okay," Frank told her. "You already gave me mine."

"Very funny," she told him, rolling her eyes and giving him one last kiss before turning her attention back towards the stove. Frank watched her for a moment with a small smile on his face before picking up his cup and plate and heading towards the kitchen table. He filled his cup with water and added a teabag before putting it in the microwave, taking it out after a minute and heading back to the table.

"What time do you have to go in to work today?" Callie asked, looking over her shoulder. Frank shrugged and took a bite of his pancake.

"Around eleven-thirty," he replied, taking a sip of his tea. "Twelve-ish."

"Okay," Callie nodded. "Well, I think Vanessa and I are going to go look at invitation around eleven forty-five, but that probably means twelve-thirty. I doubt she's even up yet."

Frank snorted into his cup and looked at the clock. "Well, I wouldn't say that. I mean, it's nine thirty. She's probably done her cleaning, is just coming back from her morning jog and is on her way to the grocery store."

"That Vanessa," Callie sighed, turning off the stove and bringing her own plate to the table. "I wish she'd slow down and learn how to relax."

"She's going to kill herself," Frank agreed with a smirk. Callie cut into her pancakes and he smiled at her again.

"What?" Callie asked through a mouthful of food. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"It's just that," he leaned in close to her, "I haven't told you that I love you today. And you didn't notice."

Callie rolled her eyes and took a sip from Frank's cup. "You're sappy today."

"I love you," Frank told her solemnly.

"This isn't a rom-com, Frank," Callie scolded him. "You're gonna make me puke."

"You're just so beautiful," he sighed, resting his head on the palm of his hand. "I've written several sonnets about you since walking in."

"And all of them start with 'roses are red; violets are blue'," Callie teased, taking another bite.

"You get me." Frank shook his head. "You really, really get me."

"Or maybe I just love you, too," she smiled, leaning in to kiss him. "Now stop being creepy so I can enjoy my breakfast."

"Will do," Frank nodded, grinning. They sat in silence for a moment, just eating their breakfast, when the phone suddenly rang. Frank put down his fork with a sigh.

"I'll get it," he told Callie, rising to his feet and dashing into the living room to look for the cordless phone. When he finally located it (couch) he leaned against the closest wall and hit 'talk'.

"Hello?" he answered, running a hand through his hair. As the person on the other end spoke, Frank's stomach turned. He was quite positive he was going to be sick at any minute, but his stomach just kept rolling to the point where he sunk to the floor clutching it. "No. That's not true. She can't be…!"

He wished he could cry so badly at the moment, but his eyes seemed unfairly dry. His body felt devoid of energy, just empty and hollow.

"Frank?" Callie called from the kitchen. "Who is it?"

Frank opened his mouth to reply, but no sound left his mouth.

"Honey?" Callie turned the corner and saw Frank sitting on the floor, his mouth wide and his knees against his chest and ran over, dropping down next to him.

"What's wrong?" she asked urgently. "Frank, talk to me."

"It's…" Frank couldn't speak. His head ached and his heart pounded dully, like it didn't care whether he lived or not anymore. He grasped at the wall above him and pulled himself up slowly, before absolutely running to the front door and throwing it open.

Lying on the welcome mat, as always, was a copy of the Bayport Gazette. It was wrapped neatly with an elastic band folded carefully around it and Frank picked it up with trembling hands.

He pulled the elastic so tightly that it snapped in half, but he didn't care. He fumbled with the pages and tore through them until he came to a big, full page spread.

"Frank, you're scaring me," Callie told him, coming up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder. When he looked at her, her eyes were filled with tears but he couldn't even comfort her. With his head still spinning, he shoved the paper towards her and sank back against the front door.

Callie stared at him for a moment before looking at the page in front of her. Her mouth dropped suddenly and her eye filled even further.

**'GIRL DETECTIVE KILLED IN DRIVE-BY SHOOTING,'** the headline read. _'World renowned sleuth Nancy Drew was killed in her home yesterday, at approximately 5:12 pm…'_

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><p><strong>AN: Ta-DAAAH. I hope you liked it. It's somewhat OC, yes, but oh well. It's hard to NOT write OC. Also. Ahem. Should I continue?**

**Reviews? Please? Begging is not beneath me. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I am but a humble FanFiction author, who owns naught but some pencils and a (sometimes) trusty computer.**

**A/N: I got a couple of encouraging reviews, so I decided to give it another shot. I'm still not 100 percent sure on whether I want to continue or not, but I thought I'd upload the second chapter, anyways.**

** Enjoy.**

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><p>How Frank got from the front door to the living room was a blur. When he sat down on the couch was lost to him. How long he had been there was a total mystery.<p>

But the completely confusing thing was that Nancy was dead.

Nancy. Was dead. No longer living. Passed away. And she was only twenty-four.

"Frank," Callie whispered, grabbing his hand tightly. "I'm so sorry."

Frank nodded numbly. His whole body felt like it was made of stone and he wished that some sort of emotion would break through. Why wasn't he crying? Why wasn't he shaking with anger at whoever did this to Nancy?

"I'm so sorry, hon," Callie repeated, resting her head on his shoulder. "I just…I can't believe it. I know how close you and Joe were to her. I can't even imagine how hard this must be for you."

Frank's head jerked back. "Joe. I need to call Joe."

"Hon, I'm sure he knows," Callie told him gently, placing her hand on his knee. "Don't you just want to talk about this?"

"I need to call Joe," Frank repeated, standing shakily and crossing the room. He picked the phone off of the floor and began mechanically dialing the number.

The phone beeped, so he hung up and began dialing again. Once again, the busy signal sounded in his ears and he smashed the phone down onto the receiver. He swore loudly and went into the kitchen to get his car keys.

"Where are you going?" Callie asked nervously, putting her hand hesitantly on his shoulder as she approached him. Frank's face was completely blank, so devoid of emotion that she wondered if part of Frank had died as well.

"To Joe's," Frank told her, pocketing the keys and heading towards the front door. He slipped into his jacket and opened the front door, turning for just a moment to make eye contact with Callie.

"I don't think you should be driving," Callie called after him. "Frank! If you just give me a minute, I'll drive you…"

"I'm perfectly capable of driving myself," Frank snapped, sliding into the driver's seat.

Callie watched the car pull out of the driveway with tears in her eyes. She watched until the car had disappeared from view before pulling her rope tightly around her and turning back into the house.

She picked the phone gently off of the receiver, as if she could undo the damage Frank had done when slamming it down, and dialed Vanessa's cell phone. While the phone rang, Callie leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. She had always known that Nancy was very, very special to Frank. And even though he never mentioned anything to her, she knew that something had gone down between them. And more than once, because there were several occasions when Frank came home from a trip and became Super Boyfriend. He had been the absolute picture of guilt, but Callie always forgave him. He always came back to her, after all. That had to mean something.

She felt a tear trickle down her cheek as the phone rang. Callie had always felt like Frank still loved Nancy, but he barely mentioned her anymore so she figured he had moved on. But now…now she felt like it was all coming back. What if his feelings for her were too strong to ignore and now that she was dead, he'd become an emotional wreck?

What if Frank couldn't get over a dead girl? What if Nancy broke his heart…forever?

* * *

><p>Vanessa distantly heard her cell-phone ringing, but ignored it. She held onto Joe tightly and let him sob into her neck. She felt tears streaming down her own face but tried to control her breathing so that Joe wouldn't think she was upset as well.<p>

"Y-your phone is ringing," Joe hiccupped, squeezing her tightly. Vanessa ran her hands up and down his back.

"It's not important," she whispered leaning back and running her hands through his hair. "They can leave a message."

"It _could_ be important," Joe sniffed, hugging her again. "Answer, please. I need to be alone for a minute anyways." The ringing stopped, but started again after a moment's hesitation.

"Are you sure?" Vanessa asked slowly, wiping her eyes. "I know how much she meant to you, baby. I know you loved her."

"I did," Joe nodded. "B-but I just need a min-minute. Please, answer it." Vanessa nodded and slowly uncrossed her legs, pulling herself to her feet. With one last long look at Joe, who was sitting hunched over against the wall with his fists pressed into his eyes and his shoulders shaking, she dashed into their bedroom. Picking yesterday's jeans up off of the floor, she dug into the pocket and pulled out her violently vibrating cell-phone.

"H-hello?" she asked, coughing to disguise the tears in her voice.

"Hey, Van," Callie replied. Vanessa could hear tears in her voice as well and sighed, sinking backwards onto the bed. "Did you hear about…about Nancy?"

"Yeah," Vanessa whispered, rubbing her eyes again. "Yeah. God, I can't believe it. Joe's a mess."

"So is Frank," Callie replied, hiccupping. "And he's on his way over."

"What?" Vanessa cried, running a hand through her hair. "Is it safe for him to be driving?"

"No," Callie responded with a strained voice. "It's really not. But he was adamant. He wouldn't even wait two seconds for me to drive him. That's why I'm calling."

"Okay," Vanessa nodded into the phone and sat up. "I'll call you if he's not here in twenty minutes."

"Thanks, Vanessa," Callie whispered into the phone. "Tell Joe I'm sorry."

"I will," Vanessa replied, her eyes watering again. "I just…wow."

"I know," Callie murmured. "I know."

With that, the girls hung up. Vanessa dashed quickly into the washroom to splash some water on her face before running back out to Joe. He was in the exact same position he was in before and when he looked up, she saw that his eyes were terribly red and swollen.

"Frank's coming over," Vanessa whispered, sliding down next to him. "And I'm going to call your dad and tell him that you guys won't be in today."

Joe nodded his thanks. Vanessa wrapped her arms around his shoulders again.

"I'm so sorry, Joe," she told him, pressing herself tightly against him. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Me too," Joe replied hoarsely. "She didn't deserve to die, Van. She was supposed to _live_. She was meant to have this full life and now she won't be able to. I don't understand how someone could have done this. She was…she was _special_."

"I know," Vanessa nodded, her eyes filling with tears as she heard Joe's voice break. She breathed in deeply, her mind relaxing a little at the scent of him. "She was a good person, Joe, and she shouldn't have died. There are some seriously sick people out there."

Joe didn't reply, instead crying into her shoulder. They sat there for a few moments, just holding each other and crying.

"She was my best friend," Joe cried and Vanessa held him tighter. "She was one of my best friends and I'll never see her again. It's not fair…it's not fair!"

Vanessa's throat constricted and she kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry!"

Suddenly, a knock at the door broke them apart.

"I'll get it," Vanessa told him gently, standing shakily. He grabbed her hand and stopped her. He stood next to her and shook his head.

"It's Frank," he croaked, squeezing her hand tightly. "I'll get it."

"Okay," Vanessa nodded, pulling him close for a second. "I'll put on another pot of coffee." Joe nodded his thanks and inhaled deeply before breaking away and heading towards the door.

He swung it open and Frank stood there, his face pale and stony. Without a word, Joe launched his arms around his brother, who in turn hugged Joe with all his strength.

"Oh, my God," Joe whispered into Frank's ear. "I can't believe it. I can't b-believe that she's gone."

Joe's tears soaked into Frank's shirt but Frank remained silent. He wished so badly that he could just _cry_, but he couldn't. For some reason, it was as if all the moisture in his body had disappeared, leaving him a dry shell of the Frank he used to be.

"She's gone," Frank repeated, holding his brother tightly. A part of him felt like if he let Joe go, he'd lose him too. He had let Nancy go and now she was gone. This was his fault. If he hadn't been so…so…

"I feel like it's my fault," Joe cried, sniffling. "I don't know why, but I feel like I could have protected her."

"You couldn't have," Frank replied instantaneously. "She wouldn't let anyone protect her and you know it. It's not your…it's not _our _fault."

"I know," Joe sighed, pulling away from his brother and leading him into the apartment, "but I still feel like it is. Frank…we'll never see Nancy again!"

Frank nodded silently, following Joe over to the couch. Something pulled tightly in his stomach and his heart felt like it was beating abnormally.

"I hate whoever did this to her," Joe told him through gritted teeth, pressing his fists into his eyes. "I want to kill the son of a bitch who killed Nancy!"

"Me too," Frank whispered, knowing that it was true but not really feeling the sentiment behind it. Why was he like this? Why couldn't he express his feelings?

"If I ever find out who did this," Joe sobbed angrily, "I will tear him apart. Piece by freaking piece!"

"I'll be right behind you," Frank replied, leaning back against the couch. He ran his hands through his hair and then hugged himself tightly. Joe stared at him curiously through his drying tears.

"What's wrong with you?" Joe demanded, turning to look at him. "Why aren't you more upset?"

"I don't know," Frank replied honestly. "I feel like I'm in…shock or something." He wasn't in shock. He knew this. He just couldn't explain what was going on. Joe nodded like he didn't quite believe him, but let it go.

"I can't believe this," Joe sighed, closing his eyes. "She was one of our best friends, Frank. And she's _dead_. I can't believe it. She was so…amazing. She was great, wasn't she? How could she be dead?"

Frank was silent, but fortunately Vanessa came back into the room and threw herself at him.

"I'm so sorry, Frank," Vanessa told him, her arms wrapped tightly around his chest.

"Me too," Frank whispered, hugging his brother's girlfriend carefully. He felt like he could break anything he came too close to.

After a moment of silent hugging, she pulled away and sat down next to Joe, immediately grabbing his hand.

"While you were at the door, I redialed the number," Vanessa told them, brushing hair behind her ear with her free hand. "It was Nancy's friend Bess. She wanted me to tell you that the funeral is going to be on Friday and she wants you guys to be there."

The brothers looked at each other and nodded.

"Dad will give us a week off for this," Joe replied, swallowing hard. "He'll understand."

"Yeah," Frank nodded, looking down at his lap. "I guess we can fly down on Thursday and get a motel room."

"Sounds as good as it's going to get," Joe sighed, rubbing fiercely at his eyes. He had always been the more emotional of the two, but he couldn't believe Frank. He was barely reacting at all! Didn't he care that Nancy was dead? Joe watched his big brother fiddle with his thumbs and was about to ask him for the second time what was wrong with him when Frank spoke up.

"I'd better call Callie," Frank mumbled, standing and shoving his hands in his pockets. "She'll probably want to know that I got here okay."

"Okay," Vanessa said softly, staring curiously at Frank. Once he had left the room, she turned to her boyfriend.

"Did something seem off about that?" Vanessa asked him quietly, rubbing her thumb over his hand. Joe nodded. "He seemed almost…"

"Guilty," Joe finished for her. "He looked guilty."

* * *

><p>It was chilly when they arrived in River Heights, but a beautiful-day kind of chilly that would have been lovely had they not been in town for a funeral.<p>

"I hate this," Joe told his brother, adjusting the tie around his neck.

"It's a lovely tie," Frank replied absently. "You look great." Joe stared at him, not sure whether to be amused or pissed off.

"No," Joe said incredulously. "_This_. Nancy's funeral."

"Oh," Frank muttered, looking down at the ground. "Right. Yeah, it sucks."

"It's a little worse than 'sucks'," Joe scoffed, shoving his hands into his pocket and looking around. They had decided to walk to the funeral home where the memorial service was taking place because it was such a nice day, but now Joe wished that they had taken the rental car. His head was starting to pound in an annoying way that told him he might cry. "It's kick-you-in-the-ass-punch-you-in-the-stomach bad."

"Yeah," Frank agreed silently, his voice sounding rough. He pushed up his sleeve and looked at his watch. "The service is starting soon; we'd better hurry."

"Yes," Joe replied dryly. "Because this is something I cannot wait to get to." Despite his comment, Joe picked up his pace and the brothers arrived at the funeral home a moment later.

"Are you ready?" Frank asked, grabbing the handle of the door. Joe pressed his lips together.

"No," he replied honestly. "But I never will be, so we might as well get this over with." Frank nodded his agreement, swallowed hard and pulled open the door.

The funeral hall was packed to near explosion with people. All four corners of the room were stuffed and just opening the door caused a ripple in the crowd.

"Wow," Joe murmured to his brother, shoving his hands in his pocket.

"Nancy was a great person," Frank said quietly. "I don't think there is anyone who could have hated her."

"Except the people she put in prison," Joe pointed out, sighing deeply. "But that can be expected."

Frank nodded and ran his fingers through his hair, messing up its neat side part and returning it to the same state he found it in when he woke up this morning. Joe almost chuckled, but instead shook his head slightly.

Suddenly, Joe felt a pair of arms wrapping around his neck and his knee-jerk reaction was to wrap his arms around the person's waist. Craning his head back slightly, he saw a mass of blonde curls attached to a curvy girl wearing a black dress and dark blue shoes. Then, he caught a whiff of the girl's perfume, which only confirmed that it was Bess Marvin—one of Nancy's best friends—clinging to his neck.

"I'm so glad you're here," Bess whispered in Joe's ear. Bess and Joe had always gotten along well—they had even been on a date or two—and Joe was very, very glad to see her. Bess had a way of making you forget how much you hurt. "Nancy would have wanted you here."

"I really don't think she would have wanted me at her funeral, but I get what you mean," Joe replied sadly, holding her tightly to him. He closed his eyes tightly and willed himself not to cry. Something about being so close to someone so warm reminded him of how Nancy would never be warm like this again; she would never feel someone's arms around her, feel their heart pumping beside hers, feel their breath on her neck.

He felt Bess quiver a little in his arms and inhale deeply before pulling back. He took a long look at her, and it was easy to see how broken she was. If you were looking at her from afar, she would simply seem like one of those untouchably perfect girls. Shoulder length, curly blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes and a smile that could break a million hearts. But it was the dark circles under eyes, the waver in her smile and the pallor of her skin that told Joe she was falling apart. She wrapped her arms around herself and pressed her lips together tightly. She looked like she was going to say something when her cousin, George Fayne (another of Nancy's friends) came up behind her and wrapped her arm around Bess's shoulder. She squeezed her cousin tightly and Bess rested her head in the crook of her neck.

George was undeniably the strongest girl the Hardy's had ever met, both physically and emotionally, but right now she almost looked as sad as Bess. Her short, dark hair looked tangled and her large, dark eyes were red around the rims. She was wearing a pair of sleek black pants and a dark blue blouse, but her clothes hung loosely off of her frame. She was terribly thin, her face gaunt and her frame all angles.

Joe heard Frank take in a sharp breath as he looked at her. While George had always been the thin, strong, dark contrast to curvy, soft and blonde Bess…she suddenly looked twenty years older and almost sickly.

"George," Joe whispered, wrapping her arms gently around her. Just touching her made him want to cry again. He felt for certain that he was going to break her, but she hugged him tightly. "How are you?"

"I've been better," George replied softly. Something was off in her voice. Gone was the loud, harshly honest George that he had admired. She pulled away and wrapped her arms around Frank, whose face turned painfully blank and Joe knew he was trying to hide his feelings. The brothers exchanged a silent look and Joe knew that Frank was thinking the same thing that he was. He looked at Bess, who was biting her lip sadly. She shook her head absently before looking at Joe.

"The service should be starting soon," she told him, her lip quivering. Joe nodded and took a step towards her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"This sucks," he whispered in her ear, looking at George and Frank who were now talking quietly. Bess nodded, sniffling.

"You have no idea," Bess told him, her eyes full of tears. "Nothing is the same. Everything is broken. Everyone in town has been crying for _days_. And George…" Her voice trailed off tearfully and Joe nodded with understanding.

"She wasn't supposed to die," Joe said shakily. "This isn't right."

"I told her not to get involved," Bess whispered, almost to herself.

"What?" Joe asked, blinking with surprise. He turned so he was facing Bess. "Get involved with what?"

"N-nothing," Bess replied, wiping her eyes. "I'll tell you later. The service is starting."

Joe nodded and looked at Frank, who was now standing beside him.

"She says Nancy got involved with something," Joe told him quietly and Frank looked at him seriously.

"With what?" he demanded. Joe shrugged.

"She said she'd tell me later," Joe told his brother. They shuffled towards the casket and Joe felt the overwhelming urge to grab his brother's hand and hold onto it tightly, like he did when he was little. The casket was closed and he was immensely glad. There was absolutely no way he could face looking at Nancy like that.

He looked at his brother, who had gone strangely pale.

"Frank?" He whispered quietly, tugging on his brother's sleeve. "Frank?" Frank's mind whirred crazily. His heart beat so quickly that he could hear it in his ears, _thumpthumpthumpthumpthump._

"This is my fault," he whispered suddenly, eliciting great shock from Joe.

"Frank, there is no way this could have been your fault," Joe told him, his face wrinkling in concern.

"I let her go," Frank whispered. "How could I let her go, Joe?"

"I don't understand," Joe replied, shaking his head. "What are you saying?"

_Kissing her felt like nothing else in world. And he hoped he was a good enough actor for it not to show, but he knew that this was _it_. It felt scary and real and even though he was already grown, it felt like he was growing up too fast. _

Frank squeezed his eyes shut so he wouldn't have to remember what happened next.

"It's nothing," Frank told him, inhaling deeply. "It's nothing at all."

The service was over and people were slowly trickling out. Ninety percent of the people were weeping, their hands wiping at their cheeks as they filed out. Frank and Joe hung back with Bess and George, who were both crying uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry," Bess apologized, grabbing George's hand. "We really need to talk, but I need to collect myself first. We'll be right back."

"Okay," Joe told them, smiling a little. "We'll be right here." The brothers stood in silence until they were out of earshot."

"That was worse than I thought it would be," Frank told him quietly, looking at his feet.

"I know," Joe replied. "I mean, I knew it would be sad but I didn't think…I didn't…"

"I know," Frank told his brother, wrapping an arm around his brother's shoulder. Joe looked like he was about to say something, but his mouth snapped shut tightly and his eyes squinted.

"Frank," he murmured, "doesn't that girl look like…?" Joe jerked his chin in the direction of a tall, blonde girl standing in the corner and Frank turned to look.

"Oh, my God," Frank whispered. "She looks a lot like…like Nancy." Joe tugged on his brother's sleeve and pulled him towards the girl.

"Excuse me," Joe spoke up, tapping the girl's shoulder. She swung around quickly and Joe took a step back with shock. Her features were almost identical to Nancy's, but that was where the similarities ended. She had long, wavy blonde hair, tan skin, brown eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses and freckles. She was almost the same height as Nancy, but much curvier than his friend had been.

"Hi…" the girl replied slowly, grabbing the hand of the tall, dark-haired, green eyed man standing next to her.

"You must be related to Nancy," Joe sputtered. "I mean, you look so much like her…it's almost scary."

The girl smiled a little and brushed back her hair with her free hand. "I'm Nancy's cousin, Cecilia. Bentley. Her mother was my father's sister. We were…pretty close when we were little."

"I've never heard her mention you," Frank interrupted quietly.

"We kind of lost touch," Cecelia told him sadly. "And now I'm wishing that we hadn't. She was my best friend growing up, we had a stupid fight and then we just…stopped talking. I didn't even see her at Christmas."

Joe looked at his brother. The look on Frank's face was similar to the one he wore after being punched in the stomach.

"Stop beating yourself up about it," the man next to her told her softly, pulling her close before looking at the brothers. "Hi, I'm David Singer, Cecelia's boyfriend." He extended his hand and the brothers shook it stiffly.

"Frank and Joe Hardy," Joe replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Nancy was one of our best friends."

"I'm sorry for your loss," David responded, grief etching its way onto his face. "From what Cecelia has told me, she was an extraordinary woman." Joe looked at Cecelia's face out of the corner of his eye. Something about her didn't feel quite right. She looked sad, sure, but the expression on her face didn't quite match that of a grieving cousin.

"She really was," Frank sighed, staring at his feet. He could feel Cecelia's eyes on him and it was making his skin crawl uncomfortably. And looking at her was almost like looking at a slightly altered picture of Nancy.

"She was the best," Joe piped in, nodding his head solemnly. "I can't believe that she's gone."

"People do crazy things," Cecelia broke in softly. Joe glanced at her and was struck by the way she looked at them. There was something in her eyes that made Joe feel like she knew something that she wasn't supposed to, something about them or something about Nancy that was almost…_dangerous_.

David gently nudged her and she shook her head, breaking out of her trance.

"Anyways," she breathed, blinking fiercely, "we really must go. It was great meeting you. You should come by the bakery sometime before you leave."

"The bakery?" Joe asked, dumbfounded. She nodded quickly, her bangs swinging into her eyes.

"That's where I work," she explained. "We moved to River Heights a couple weeks ago. I was…I was trying to get back in touch with Nancy, but I didn't really have the time."

"That's too bad," Frank told her. She nodded sadly and looked away.

"So, we'll see you around," Cecelia said a little too brightly, pulling David away harshly. The brothers watched them leave, whispering to each other. Cecelia leaned into David's side and he wrapped an arm around her.

"That didn't feel right to me," Joe sighed, turning to Frank. The elder Hardy nodded, still watching them.

"It was definitely weird," he told Joe, running a hand through his hair.

"What was weird?" The brothers turned and saw Bess and George walking towards them, looking much calmer_._

"Talking to Nancy's cousin and her boyfriend," Joe replied, shrugging his shoulder.

"What cousin?" Bess asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Cecelia Bentley?" Frank told her, almost making his words sound like a question.

"Huh," Bess murmured. "I thought I had met all of Nancy's cousins, but I guess not."

George shrugged her thin shoulders delicately and crossed her arms. She nudged Bess with her elbow and Joe could have sworn that Bess winced.

"Tell them," George whispered and again, Joe was struck with the change in her.

"Right," Bess sighed, her shoulders slumping deeply.

"Tell us what?" Frank demanded a bit too harshly. Joe elbowed him in the ribs.

"What my dear brother meant," Joe rolled his eyes, "was, please, tell us whenever you're ready."

Bess smiled a little, looking at the ground and Joe relaxed a little. But when she looked up, her eyes were filled with tears and Joe's heart sunk.

"It's just that…" Bess cried, wiping her eyes. "Nancy's death wasn't coincidental. Someone was _trying_ to kill her!"

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><p><strong>AN: Ta-daaaah! Another surprisingly long chapter, which was actually supposed to have more in it, but I was too tired to write more.**

**Reviews?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Déclamer: Non, je ne possède pas ces caractères. En fait, il n'y a pas beaucoup que je possède.**

**Oui, j'aime beaucoup le français. Particulièrement les jurons québécois. TABERNAC! **

**A/N: Hello, lovelies. I believe that I owed you another chapter. And here it is. **

**Enjoy:**

* * *

><p>"What?" Joe cried incredulously, his eyes opening wide. He looked over to Frank, whose face had tightened so much that it almost looked painful.<p>

"Someone was trying to kill her," Bess whispered, her face deathly white. "She was getting threats, but being Nancy…she didn't think anything of it. She got threatened all the time, she investigated, she kicked some bad guy ass…the end. But this time…this time…"

Bess burst into tears again and George wrapped her arms around her. The girls were quiet for so long that the brothers wondered if the conversation was over.

"What kind of threats?" Frank finally asked, swallowing hard.

"Well," George spoke up so quietly that the Hardy's unconsciously leaned in to hear her. "It started pretty small, with things like those notes with all the letters cut out, warning her to keep to herself and that if she wasn't careful, she'd end up dead. But they got worse and worse until they just stopped. But then she started getting…attacked. She got poisoned in a restaurant, but she realized in time to be sent to the hospital. On her way home, someone pinned her in an alley and tried to slit her throat but she got away. Someone ran her car off of a bridge and she ended up in the water, but she managed to get the door open before she sank too far. Then there were things like getting a bomb in the mail, which was so amateur that she managed to disarm it before the timer even started to count. And then…then she was at home and she got…" George pressed her thin lips together, making the hollows of her cheeks even more pronounced.

"Oh, my God," Joe shook his head sadly before looking up at the girls. "Why didn't she call us? We would have come running."

"That's what we said," George whispered, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "But she said she didn't want to bother you."

"She wouldn't have been bothering us!" Joe cried, looking at Frank for some sort of sign of agreement. Instead, his brother stared down at his feet. "Why would she have thought that?"

George shrugged her tiny shoulders and looked at the floor. "She wouldn't tell us. She got upset whenever one of us mentioned you."

Frank snuck a look at Joe, who was glaring at him accusingly. Frank gave a little shrug as if to say, _I don't know either_.

"Someone wanted her dead," Bess spoke up finally. "I don't know who or why, but I do know that I want to kill them. How could they do this? H-how could anyone k-kill Nancy?"

"I don't know," Frank whispered. "I really don't." He looked over at Joe, who was biting his lip and appeared to be deep in thought. Suddenly, Joe's blond eyebrows creased and he looked at Bess and George seriously.

"Was Nancy working on any cases before she died?" he asked quietly and the cousins exchanged looks before shrugging their shoulders.

"I honestly don't know," Bess told them, sighing shakily. "It's possible. I mean, she hadn't solved any in a while because she was so busy with work and she didn't say anything about working on one, but it…it was Nancy, you know? She solved three cases before breakfast and we wouldn't know until it was in the newspaper."

"True," Joe nodded, furrowing his brows in thought.

Bess let out a watery cry suddenly and she grabbed George's arm tightly. She gestured across the room to where Ned Nickerson was sitting, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking. He looked so distressed that Frank actually felt bad for him.

"Poor Ned," George whispered, shaking her head sadly. "He's taken it really hard. He really, really loved her."

"Were they still together?" Joe asked, throwing another look over his shoulder at Ned. Bess shook her head.

"No," Bess told him, tucking a strand of curly blond hair behind her ear. "Nancy broke up with him a long, long time ago. She was even dating other people. But not Ned he just couldn't move on after she broke it off. He begged—_begged_—her to reconsider, but she never did. She had her heart set on other things."

Frank could have sworn Bess and George gave him meaningful glances at this point and his stomach sank. He shifted his weight from side to side and stuck his hands in his pockets, clenching and unclenching his fists as he did so.

"Let's go talk to him," Bess sniffed, tugging on the sleeve of George's blouse. George nodded slowly and looked back and the brothers.

"We'll see you later, right?" she asked, stepping forwards to give them a hug each. From over her shoulder, Joe shot Frank a look. He was trying not to gag at the feeling of all of her bones pressing into his flesh. When she pulled away, Frank dutifully wrapped his arms around her and sighed.

Bess did the same, hugging Joe just an instant longer than she hugged Frank.

"I'll call you," Bess told them, her face stretching into a weak smile. The brothers smiled back and watched as the cousins walked over to Ned and sat on either side of him, engulfing him in a huge hug. It was a sad sight, the three of them with their arms wrapped around each other, crying.

_'You were so important, Nancy_,'Joe thought sadly, shaking his head and looking away before he started crying again. He looked up at his brother, who was still staring at the trio with an odd look on his face. Not like he was about to break down and start crying, but like he was going to throw up.

"Are you okay?" Joe asked softly, touching his brothers sleeve to get his attention. Frank's head snapped towards Joe and he nodded vigorously.

"I'm fine," Frank told him, giving a weak smile. "Just thinking. Nancy _had _to be on a case, Joe. There's pretty much no other explanation."

"I know," Joe nodded and turned towards the door. The brothers started walking towards the door and stepping out into the bright, crisp air was enough to send Joe crazy. Thinking about things like how Nancy didn't get to enjoy days like this anymore was hard to believe. "But how would we find out if she was?"

Frank shrugged his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair. "There isn't really a way. Except, I don't know, reading her diary."

Joe looked up at Frank, his eyes open wide and his lips pursed. "We could do that."

"What?" Frank cried, stumbling a little. "We can't read her diary, Joe. For starters, we don't know where it is. And secondly, we don't even know if she kept a diary."

"It doesn't mean we can't look," Joe shrugged. Frank considered this silently for a moment before sighing.

"How would we even get in her room?" Frank asked, avoiding eye contact with his brother. He stared intensely at the sidewalk, as if trying to memorize all the cracks and crevices.

"We could…ask?" Joe suggested, shrugging his shoulders again. Frank looked at him incredulously.

"Great plan, Joe," Frank deadpanned. "Just picture it. 'Hi, Mr. Drew. Can we take a look around your dead daughter's room the day after her funeral so we can invade her privacy by going through her diary to see if she was working a case?' Genius. You should have that plan patented."

"I didn't mean asking like that," Joe scoffed, rolling his eyes. "We could make up something about closure. You know, spending some time with her stuff so we can move on."

"So believable," Frank shook his head. "I now believe that we are related."

"I knew you'd come around eventually," Joe winked, knocking his shoulder into his brother's. "Just trust me, okay?"

They had just turned onto the street that their motel was on when Frank stopped. "I trust you, Joe. Never think I don't trust you."

"O-okay," Joe stammered, caught off guard by his brother's sudden display of affection. Frank had been akin to an emotional statue since he found out about Nancy, completely stony and secluded, but suddenly his face was a picture of emotion. But then, just as suddenly as it started, Frank's face returned to normal and they continued walking. Joe couldn't shake the feeling that something was killing his brother on the inside, but he didn't know how to ask. He stared up at his brother as Frank dug the motel key out of his pocket and began to unlock their room.

"Frank," Joe spoke up, but as soon as Frank looked at him the words died on his lips. "We…we're staying, right? We're going to figure out who killed Nancy?"

"Of course," Frank replied immediately. "Callie won't be happy about it, but that's just too bad. We need to figure out what happened to Nancy, or we won't be able to live with ourselves."

Joe nodded and as soon as the door was open, he launched himself onto his bed.

"I'm tired," he mumbled into his pillow, unbuttoning his suit jacket lazily and throwing it randomly behind him. "It's been an emotional day."

Frank nodded in understand and began to get clothes out of his suitcase to change into. He peered over at his brother and almost smiled to see him curled up like a little kid, his eyes closed and fists tightly grabbing the blanket. But he knew his brother wasn't asleep. The distress was visible on his face, even though he was trying his best to conceal it.

Frank's heart ached painfully. He didn't want to see his baby brother so upset, especially while he felt like all of this was his fault. He began to unbutton his shirt and suddenly slumped down onto the bed. He didn't want to read Nancy's diary. The idea that Nancy might have written something about that night, or what happened or how she felt about him could very well destroy him.

He buried his face in his hands and sighed. If Joe found out what had happened…he would kill him. He would actually, literally kill him. There would be yelling, blood…and Frank wouldn't even be able to defend himself. He absolutely hated himself for what happened with Nancy and he regretted it every day.

He ran his hands through his hair and stood, suddenly feeling every muscle in his body ache. He staggered towards the bathroom, shut the door and turned on the shower, waiting for the water to warm.

When Frank got in, he closed his eyes and fought not to cry. Nancy was dead. How could she be dead? He had touched her skin, felt her breath, tasted her lips…and now she was gone. It felt like it had all been fake, like she had never lived, never breathed, never laughed…and it killed him. How could she be gone when he could still feel her body pressed up against his?

_He thought that his heart would burst out of his chest. The water in the pool was cold, but her skin was so warm and he could feel the water dripping off of her face and onto his and as they swam, they slowly backed up so that her back was pressed against the wall, pinned by his body. _

_She pulled away momentarily, breathing heavily, and gave him a look that told her she knew, too. She knew that it was _it_. She had known for a while and he could tell. _

_He stared into her eyes, her enormous, deep blue eyes, surrounded by long black lashes and his breathing caught. It was real. It was. He knew it._

And truth be told, he still did.

* * *

><p>The brothers stood outside the door to the Drew's house anxiously, fidgeting.<p>

"I don't want to knock," Joe told his brother. Frank rolled his eyes and reached out to knock on the door, but his fist froze in midair. "Ha! See, it's not so easy, is it?"

"Shut up," Frank muttered, reaching out the rest of the way and knocking on the door. The brothers waited in silence and after a moment, the door swung open hesitantly.

Carson Drew stood in front of them, looking terrible. His hair was streaked heavily with grey and unkempt, sticking out even more than Joe's. His eyes were rimmed with red and they sagged, as if keeping them open was much too difficult. The wrinkles on his handsome, dignified face were even more pronounced than usual and he was wearing a pair of pajamas, his feet stuck in slippers.

"Frank, Joe," Carson greeted them, attempting to smile. Instead, his lips just turned up at the corners, barely moving a millimeter.

"Carson," Frank replied, extending his hand to shake. Carson took it slowly and gave it a limp shake before doing the same with Joe.

"We didn't get to see you at the memorial service yesterday," Joe started, his face a picture of grief, "and we wanted to stop by. We're so, so sorry."

"Thank you, boys," Carson nodded, opening the door all of the way to allow the boys through. The brothers filed in, taking in their surroundings with carefully blank expressions. The house was painfully neat and clean, each surface gleaming with an intensity that almost hurt their eyes. The air smelled of cleaning product, but behind the harsh lemon odor, Joe could smell a hint of her perfume in the air. He knew that the soft, warm smell of Nancy would soon disappear from the air, though. The traces of vanilla and lavender would evaporate to nothing and then Carson would have nothing left. Looking further, Joe could see that bits and pieces of furniture were missing and that was when he realized that the dining room was piled high with cardboard boxes, each box labeled with a specific room.

"How are you?" Frank asked, feeling stupid even as the words left his mouth. Carson shrugged weakly, looking around. His eyes trailed over to the living room and the boys followed his gaze. The front window was shiny and had obviously been replaced since Nancy's death. The hardwood floor in front of the area wasn't as dark as the rest of it, probably from all of the cleaning, and the carpet that usually rested there was gone. Frank swallowed hard looking at this. He hadn't even realized that they would be going to the scene of Nancy's murder. The air felt thick suddenly and it was hard for him to shove it down his throat. He closed his eyes briefly and focused on just breathing.

Beside him, Joe was biting tongue and trying not to cry. He had been so emotional lately and if he were Frank, he would have kicked his own ass. He knew that he had been a weepy mess lately and he wished that he could stop, but…he had never thought he'd lose Nancy. He never thought that she would die. Joe knew it was stupid, but it almost felt like Nancy was invincible; like she would never die. He could only imagine that Carson felt the same, only tenfold. He couldn't believe how much it hurt to lose his best friend; he couldn't even imagine what it would be like to lose a daughter, _especially_ after he already lost his wife.

"How have you boys been?" Carson asked blandly. He scratched absently at his chin and stared at the living room. It felt to Joe like he had forgotten they were there; like he was lost in his own mind.

"We've been feeling pretty terrible lately," Joe managed, shoving his hands into his pockets. Carson swallowed hard and inhaled shakily. He nodded and looked desperately towards the kitchen.

"Can I get you boys something to drink?" he asked. The boys politely shook their heads to indicate that they were fine and exchanged glances.

"Carson," Frank started, looking at the floor. "This may sound strange…but we were wondering if we could spend some time in Nancy's room. With her things, her pictures. We feel like…maybe it could help give us some closure."

Carson gave the boys a strange look; curiosity hidden behind the shadow of fear. "I…I suppose…"

"Thank you," Frank nodded, putting a hand on the older man's shoulder. He looked at Joe and the boys headed towards the stairs.

"Boys…" Carson's voice stopped them suddenly. They turned and he faltered. "If…if it's not too much trouble…do you mind packing up some of her things? I can't…I just can't bear to go up there yet…"

"We understand," Joe swallowed, nodding his head empathetically. Carson's expression made his heart twist in his chest; the relief painted on Mr. Drew's face was so pure, yet almost painful to look at.

"There are boxes in the hallway," Carson told them, crossing his arms over his chest and stumbling slowly towards the kitchen. The boys watched him go with matching expressions on their faces before turning back towards the stairs and heading up.

They stopped outside Nancy's door and Joe turned to Frank. He was surprised to find his brother staring at the door like it was about to bite him. His stance was vulnerable and his face was pale; he looked like a victim.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Joe asked quietly, trying to get his brother to look at him. When he finally did, his lips were pressed together tightly. He nodded his head and Joe saw him clenching his fists: something he only did when something was bothering him.

"I'll be fine," Frank replied hoarsely. Joe looked uncertain, but nodded, twisting the doorknob slowly. The door stuck a little before giving and swinging open widely. A burst of warm, sweet smelling air came rushing at them and Frank suddenly needed to grip to doorframe to keep his knees from buckling. He hadn't expected a reaction like this; he honestly thought that he was going to be alright…but he was obviously wrong.

"Okay," Joe sighed, running a hand through his hair shakily. "Where do we start?" Frank shrugged his shoulders and shuffled slowly into the room, looking around as he did. He had only been in there once or twice, but it seemed pretty much the same as always. Fairly neat, save for the thin layer of dust covering everything. Her desk was impeccably organized and her bed was unmade and the whole thing just gave Frank's heart a twist. Her walls were pale yellow. Her bedspread had polka-dots on it. It all seemed too innocent to be the room of a dead girl. He crept even further in, shutting the door silently behind him. He didn't want Carson to come up and see what they were doing.

"I guess I'll take the left side of the room and you take the right?" Joe ventured, looking almost as shaken as Frank felt. The elder Hardy nodded, shuffling his way over to the right side of the room. He stared closely at the pictures stuck to the bulletin board above Nancy's desk. Pictures of her, Bess and George, amongst other family and friends. Frank gave a small smile as he looked at her. She was so happy that she practically jumped out of every picture. He didn't know what it was about her that made her steal the focus in every frame, but she did. She was happy. She was laughing. She was beautiful. He exhaled shakily and Joe turned to him.

"Frank," he cried, exasperated. "I can't do this with you sighing every few seconds. I know it's really freaking hard and I'm trying my best to keep it together, so I need you to, too. Just…just pretend that it's not Nancy. Pretend that it's someone we don't know. Remove yourself from the situation. It's just another victim; it's just another case." Frank nodded seriously, liking the idea quite a bit. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, opening them again only when he felt composed enough to go on.

He opened her desk drawers and shuffled through folders full of notes and memos. Her familiar, large handwriting scrawled across pages and pages of schoolwork in an almost comforting way. She had notes from Ned wrapped in an elastic at the bottom of the drawer and it took every fiber of his being not to read them. _Remove yourself_, he told himself, pressing his lips together tightly. Using every last bit of his strength, he skimmed the sheets as disconnectedly as he could. Nothing odd struck him and he shoved the stack bag into her drawer.

Across the room, Joe was tearing the room apart. He unzipped the cushion on her chair, checked under all of the pillows on her window seat and riffled through her bookshelf, pulling out all of the books and leafing through them to make sure nothing fell out. He set each and every book into the box next to him carefully, though. They may have been useless, but they once meant something to Nancy and no matter how hard he tried to remove himself from the situation, he couldn't overlook that. Finally, after a couple dozen books he found himself holding a worn looking, red notebook. Joe pressed his lips together tightly and opened the cover. The first page was covered with her writing, scrawling across the page in huge loops. He slammed the book shut again and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw Frank starring at him from across the room with one eyebrow raised.

"Diary," Joe explained, his throat feeling dry. He took a couple steps towards his brother and fingered the cover gently. "Should we…"

"I don't know," Frank replied quickly, his eyes downcast. His face had gone pale again and Joe felt his curiosity spark.

"What if there is something important in there?" he asked, flipping through the pages without actually looking at them.

"We'll use that as a last resort," Frank suggested, scratching his neck and hesitantly meeting Joe's eyes, which were narrowed in suspicion.

"Frank…" Joe started, taking a deep breath. "Is there any chance that there is…something about you in here?" Frank's eyes bulged out and he swallowed so hard that Joe could see his neck pulsing with the effort.

"I...I don't know," Frank stammered, shrugging in a way that he hoped was nonchalant. "I don't know what Nancy thought of me. She probably mentioned that we helped her out on a few cases." Joe nodded slowly, still looking a little suspicious.

"So…last resort?" Joe questioned him, his eyes piercing Frank's skin."

"I think it sounds like a good idea," Frank responded, turning his attention back to Nancy's open dresser. He had started at the bottom and methodically worked his way up, taking out every article of clothing and every drawer, making sure he didn't miss anything. Finally, he reached the top drawer and opened it without a second thought. To his horror and surprise, he found himself starring at a drawer full of…underwear.

"I don't think I can do this one, Joe," Frank mumbled across the room, feeling his face grow increasingly warm. Joe looked over and laughed a little when he saw what was in the drawer.

"This one is all yours, Frank," Joe told him, shrugging. "We can't overlook anything. As much as I want to respect Nancy's privacy…we have to. I'm sorry."

"But why can't you do it?" Frank pressed desperately, his eyes opened so wide that Joe laughed again.

"Because it's on your side, Frank," Joe smirked, continuing to look under her bed without bothering to look back up. With his stomach tied up in knots, Frank carefully reached into the drawer and began unfolding and refolding various pieces of lingerie, hating himself the whole time. When he was done, he shut the drawer hastily and turned to rest his back against the dresser. Seeing her underwear reminded him of how it had looked against her skin and how it had felt when his hands first came in contact with it.

_With their breath in their throats, their lips connected again and again. Nancy ran her through Frank's hair as he moved his lips down to her neck, kissing the soft spot right below her ear. _

He took a deep breath and shook the thought out of his mind. He ran his hands over his face and continued looking around his side of the room.

Twenty minutes later, the boys had finished searching their respective sides and turned to each other with defeated looks on their faces.

"Nothing," Joe sighed, taping shut another box full of stuff he had deemed useless.

"Same over here," Frank replied, making his way over to Joe. He opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly his foot caught on something and he went flying down towards the floor, with Joe just catching him before he smacked his chin against the hardwood.

"Ever the graceful one, Frank," Joe snorted, helping his brother to his feet and smirking. Frank shot him a look and stared down at the floor. It appeared that he had tripped on a slightly raised floorboard, something he would have completely overlooked if he hadn't tripped over it. Nudging the rug on top of it aside, he knelt down next to it and pried it up. Underneath it, there was nothing but a folded piece of paper.

"What is it?" Joe asked, crouching next to his brother. Frank shrugged and began unfolding it carefully, making extra sure not to tear the paper. Holding it carefully by the edges, his eyes scanned the page urgently.

It was a carefully clipped out newspaper article, clearly from the front page. It was fairly large, even with the headline cut off and it took Frank a moment to catch on.

_'For the third time in the past two months, another person in the River Heights/Chicago area has turned up dead. The victim, whose name is being withheld, was found burning in their apartment by their neighbor, who had smelt the smoke and forced his way in. Just like the previous two victims, a detailed forensic analysis showed that the victim had been stabbed twice: once in the stomach and once in the heart. Police currently have no leads on who the murderer might be but…'_

"This is it," Frank whispered. "This is the case Nancy was on. And whoever this murderer is…they found out about her. She must have known too much."

"So to find Nancy's murderer…" Joe started, biting his lip.

"We're gonna have to solve this case," Frank finished.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Whooo! Another chapter done! How exciting, right?**

**I feel like this chapter jumped around a lot, so tell me if anything confused you. **

**Reviews?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: These characters, I own not. This story, mine. C'est tout. **

**A/N: Hello, my lovelies. This chapter goes out to you. Unless you think it sucks. In which case, it was all for me. And sadly enough, I had this chapter half finished by the time I posted the last one. I have been so madly busy. Ugh. So busy.**

**Thanks to Lazy Panther, leyapearl, Agent Striker, Mrs. Frank Hardy, Smithy (it means "No, I do not own these characters. In fact, there isn't much that I own. Yes, I really like French. Especially French swears."), Sworn Pledge, GalacticaCAG, JackieJacks, zenfrodo, Bri22, Agent Ace, TrixieNancy124 and ege26macpcakes for reviewing!**

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><p>Joe took a loud, deep breath and nodded. "Alright. So. We're going to solve this case. Sounds easy enough. I mean, we've solved at least a dozen murders before."<p>

"Maybe two dozen," Frank agreed. The brothers stared down at the paper in Joe's hands in silence for a moment.

"Where do we start?" Joe asked anxiously, swallowing hard. "I've never felt this uncertain about a case before."

"I know," Frank nodded, grimacing. There was another tense, moment of silence between the Hardy's. The brothers had solved more cases then they could possibly count in their teen years and if they were honest with themselves, they had probably solved at least a quarter of those since they started working with their father. They had never felt so lost, but then again, they had never felt so emotionally involved.

"Well," Joe spoke up finally, "the article is dated a week ago. The…the day before Nancy died."

"That doesn't really tell us anything," Frank replied, forcing his tone to be apologetic. "We already figured that she knew too much. Is there anything else the article can tell us?"

"Umm," Joe mumbled as his eyes scanned the page. "The standard fare is a stab wound to both the chest and the stomach, followed by a good old fashioned hanging and burning. God, that's just sick." Joe took a moment to swallow and recompose himself before continuing. "The article mentions that there was no sign of forced entry at any of the victims' houses. That's pretty much it."

"Does it mention anything else about the victim?" Frank asked, leaning back against the foot of Nancy's bed.

"Not really. The name is being withheld," Joe sighed, sitting next to Frank. "What now?" His brother sat quietly for a moment, staring at the carpet before turning to his brother.

"Nancy's case file," Frank said. "She had to be keeping notes somewhere. Did you see anything that resembled one in any way, shape or form?"

"Not that I saw," Joe grimaced, standing. "And they're pretty easy to pick out. I'll take another look on my side of the room." He helped Frank to his feet and the brothers spent another few minutes searching the room before turning to each other with disappointment on their faces.

"Where could they be?" Joe groaned, running his hands through his hair. "You're right; Nancy had to have case notes. It just doesn't make sense for them to be missing."

"We've torn the room apart, Joe," Frank sighed. "I think we have to accept that they aren't here. Maybe they're at her office?"

Joe shook his head. "Nancy didn't work over the summer. She went backpacking through Europe, remember? We met up with her in Amsterdam to help her with that stolen artwork case. And then she went back to school; she wouldn't have anything at the newspaper."

"Right, right," Frank replied, biting his lip. "And she wasn't living at residence. Crap. Where are they?"

"I honestly have no clue," Joe shrugged. "Maybe Bess or George would know?"

"Maybe," Frank sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I think we're done here. You ready to go?"

"Yeah," Joe replied, nodding. "Just let me close the window."

"Oh," Frank murmured, turning back. "I didn't even notice the window open."

"I just noticed it now," Joe shrugged, crossing the room. "But it looks like it's going to rain and I don't want it to get all wet in here. I don't think that would cheer Mr. Drew up any."

Frank nodded and Joe went through the motions of closing the window. However, when he went to lock it he noticed something. The blond Hardy sat on the window seat and peered closely at the lock. It appeared to be sawed off in a way that the latch would close and appear to be locked, when in reality it would only take a slight tug on the window to come flying open again.

"Huh," Joe commented, standing again. Frank raised his eyebrows at him and Joe pointed at the lock. "The lock's been sawed off." Frank shrugged his shoulders and crossed the room to take a look.

"It wouldn't surprise me if Nancy did it," he replied dully. "I would expect there were times when she needed to sneak in and out discreetly."

"I guess so," Joe responded, following his brother out of the room. They walked down the stairs and headed towards the front door. Just as Frank was about to pull the door open, Joe grabbed his arm. He pulled his brother back towards the living room and gestured with his head towards Mr. Drew, who was sitting in a chair opposite the window with his head bowed. His breathing was even and he didn't appear to be crying, so Joe took a cautious step towards him.

"Mr. Drew?" Joe called out hesitantly. "We're going to get out of your hair now. Thanks so much for letting us spend some time up there."

Carson nodded dully and raised a hand in the fashion of a wave, but didn't quite make it. The brothers exchanged looks.

"Mr. Drew?" Frank said, clearing his throat. "Is there anyone staying with you? Hannah? Where is she?"

"I sent her home," Mr. Drew replied slowly, as if he couldn't quite remember. "She was hysterical."

Joe nodded understandingly before pulling his brother off to the side. "He can't stay here alone," Joe whispered urgently. "He's falling apart."

"I know," Frank responded sadly. "Before we leave, we should get the neighbors to keep an eye on him."

"Boys," Carson spoke up, standing shakily to his feet. "I don't need you to worry about me. I…I'm a grown man. I can handle this myself."

"Of course, Mr. Drew," Frank nodded, exchanging a look with Joe. "We'll see you around, okay?"

"Goodbye, boys," Carson said lifelessly, drudging back into the living room and sitting down heavily in the chair. Joe took cautious steps towards him and knelt down in front of him.

"Mr. Drew," Joe began quietly, staring at the floor. "Please, call us if you need anything. Honestly, we're pretty worried about you."

"I'm fine," Carson repeated monotonously. "But I'd really like to be alone, boys. So please…just see yourself out."

Joe nodded slowly, standing up and walking back towards his brother. The Hardy's headed towards the door when Joe suddenly turned back.

"By the way, Mr. Drew," he called out hesitantly. "I'd just thought you should know that the lock on the window in Nanc…on one of the windows upstairs is sawed off."

Carson's head shot up curiously and his eyebrows rose slowly as he nodded in comprehension. Then, as quickly as he looked up, he turned his head back towards the window and seemed to forget the boys had ever been there. Joe shook his slowly, feeling more despair than he ever could have known was possible and slowly opened the door.

Obviously, this would be harder than he thought.

* * *

><p>The boys returned to their motel room in silence. It was small – only big enough to hold two tiny beds (much too small for their large frames), a cupboard, a desk, a teensy little television and a bathroom without much space for walking in between. It was the kind of room that made Joe, at just six feet tall, feel like a giant walking around in a Smurf village. As soon as the door swung shut behind him, he threw himself onto the bed he had claimed as his and winced as it groaned under his weight. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath to clear his mind. Being in Nancy's house, her room…it had been so weird. Like a museum of Nancy's life. It made memories of his beloved friend burst into the front of his mind; bright and vivid but starting to fade around the edges. He reopened his eyes and looked at his brother, who had sat at the desk and was opening his laptop.<p>

"What are you going to do?" asked Joe, sitting up and leaning against the headboard.

"I'm going to find out as much as I can about the other murders," Frank replied. "Newspaper articles, police statements; anything is better than what we have now." He leaned back in his chair and began to type furiously; the kind of furious typing that Joe knew from years of living with his studious older brother meant Frank soon would reach the stage where he might as well be wearing horse-blinders. He got up from the bed and stretched, his hands grazing the ceiling as he did so.

"Alrighty, then," Joe replied, not one hundred percent sure if Frank could even hear him. "Well, I'm starving and obviously not going to be much help since my name isn't Mac…so I'm going to get dinner. Do you want anything?"

Frank mumbled something somewhat under his breath and shook his head in a way that was neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"What was that? Two double-bacon cheeseburgers dripping with grease and a LARGE fry? And a milkshake? Come on, Frank; at least make it a diet Coke. I know how you're watching your figure," Joe called to him, watching his brother's face barely register his pathetic attempt at a joke. With a small sigh, he shook his head and threw on his jacket. When his words finally penetrated Frank's brain and he looked up, he saw that his brother was already gone, wondering how long it had been since he left.

His eyes were straining against the harsh light of the laptop, so he closed them momentarily. So far, all he had gotten was that the three victims had no visible link. With some digging that even impressed himself, he found the names of the victims (he was almost a professional at corresponding news events with Facebook statuses): Daisy d'Alene, Jason Flynn and Elliot Arnoldson.

Daisy d'Alene was a kindergarten teacher in Chicago, twenty seven years old and single. She was absolutely adorable; petite with fiery red hair and pale, freckled skin. She appeared to be barely out of middle-school, let alone almost thirty. She seemed to be the perky kind of person that ran every committee when she was in high school and was friends with everyone.

Jason Flynn, thirty one, was a lawyer working downtown. He seemed to be a serious man, tall and broad shoulders with dark hair. What surprised Frank was how much Jason reminded him of himself. They had very similar facial features and staring at his picture too long almost freaked him out. Shaking his head and digging a little deeper, he discovered that Jason actually lived in River Heights, making nearly an hour long commute every day. His wife and son still lived there, and Frank made a mental note to find out where they lived.

The most recent victim, Elliot Arnoldson, seemed like a really easy-going guy. He was twenty nine and owned a car-repair shop with his girlfriend. On the shop's website, there was a picture of him and his girlfriend, Melanie. They were the kind of happy, blond couple that you often found in the pictures that come with picture frames. Their arms around each other and their smiles lit up the page. Something deep inside Frank's stomach twanged with sadness looking at it. Melanie looked so happy, so in love with Elliot. The tiny voice deep in Frank's mind told him that he knew what she must feel like, but he shook the thought off quickly.

He could practically feel the cogs in his brain turning as he tried to piece things together. It was one of those cases that he loved to hate. Nothing made sense, nothing fit together and there was no clear rhyme or reason. There was absolutely nothing that stood out. These people had no link to each other. They were three people who, until their death, had nothing in common. It was times like these that he was so glad to have Joe. While his brother wasn't the greatest at doing research or finding the subtext to things, he was good at seeing what was blatantly obvious; he could find context in the things where Frank had overthought and overanalyzed.

He blinked again. Without realizing, the sun had set and he was sitting totally alone in their motel room, being blinded by the screen of his laptop. He blinked once more, noticing how heavy his eyelids were. He stood to his full height, took two stumbling steps and crashed down on the bed. And just like that, without a second thought, he was asleep.

* * *

><p>Joe strolled down the street casually, gently swinging the bag carrying their takeout. It was dark now, but he wasn't too concerned. It was the first moment in what seemed like forever that he wasn't wracked with guilt, all his thoughts focused on Nancy.<p>

His stomach grumbled and he picked up his pace. The wind wafted the sinfully delicious smell of fries towards his nose and he internally groaned. He was, after all, a growing boy and food, after spending time with Vanessa and solving cases, was his favourite past-time.

He finally turned onto the street the motel was on and stopped dead in his tracks. On a park bench not too far ahead of him sat Cecelia and David. They seemed deep in conversation, their voices carrying in the wind but not quite loud enough to hear. Watching them almost broke Joe's heart. Cecelia talked in the exact same manner that Nancy did, quietly but passionately; emphasizing every word spoken with a thoughtful expression and a barely-quirked eyebrow. Her blond hair was pulled into a low ponytail and mostly covered by a dark blue hat. Her cheeks were flushed with cold and she had her hands shoved in her pocket. She was sitting close to her boyfriend, with her legs crossed towards him and her shoulder pressed against his. David had one hand on her knee and had his body angled towards her. Anyone who knew anything about body language would say that they were extremely comfortable with each other and were simply enjoying a quiet moment. And while Joe considered himself quite adapt in reading body language, something felt off. While everything should have pointed to them just enjoying each other's company, their faces showed something different. Their conversation wasn't a relaxed one, it was tense and stern.

Every part of Joe ached to hear what they were talking about. He knew that their conversation was not one that everyone was meant to hear. There was something secret about it, and there was nothing Joe liked more than secrets. And while his first instinct was to find some sort of way to discretely listen in, before he could stop himself he had plastered a cheery grin onto his face and was waving his arms with every intention of getting their attention.

The looks on their faces were the picture of shock. He could tell that David especially was fighting the instinct to jump up and run for the hills just by the way he was fidgeting in his seat.

"Hey, guys!" Joe exclaimed, jogging over to where they were sitting. "Fancy meeting you here!"

"Yeah…" Cecelia laughed nervously, the corners of her mouth turning up into a smile that didn't quite reach her ears. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"Well, wouldn't you know that Frank and I are staying in the motel just across the street?" Joe cried grandly, pointing across the street with enthusiasm that almost made him flinch. David and Cecelia exchanged nervous glances and nodded at him.

"Wow, isn't that something," David grumbled, his eyes looking absolutely everywhere but at Joe.

"It sure is," Joe quipped, trying his best to appear cheerful. "Are you guys just out on a walk?

"Sure are," Cecelia replied briskly, smiling at Joe again. "We wanted to take advantage of the weather before it starts to snow. And God knows that once it snows, I will not being leaving the house." Joe forced a laugh, nodding his head in agreement.

"Well, don't let me disrupt you," he said. "I'd best be getting back anyways before this food gets too cold. Frank wouldn't be too happy about that."

"Poor Frank," Cecelia murmured sarcastically, surprising Joe with how bitter her voice sounded. "Well, I guess we will see you around. You two should come by the bakery before you go."

"We sure will," Joe smiled, starting to cross the street. But just as his foot was about to step on the road, he turned around. As he suspected, they couple were exchanging nervous, serious looks. "Cecelia, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Oh, um…" Cecelia glanced at David. "Sure. What is it?"

"How close were you with Nancy?" Joe asked, dropping his appearance as kind and friendly neighbor. Cecelia looked taken aback.

"As close as two people can be," she replied, pressing her lips together. "We were best friends. I shared everything with her."

"It's so strange," Joe said, scratching his head. "Because Nancy never _once_ mentioned you."

"Well, you didn't know everything about her," Cecelia replied sadly. She stood to her feet and pulled on David's sleeve. "Let's go, Dave. I'm cold."

"It's funny you say that, because I'm pretty sure that I did," Joe told her, taking a step in her direction. I knew her favourite colour, her favourite band, how she liked to drink her coffee."

"Those are just superficial things," Cecelia shot back. "Anyone could know that."

"I knew when she had her first kiss, what scared her most, her deepest secrets," Joe continued, his voice getting louder with each step he took towards them. "I've seen her cry, made her laugh, even saved her life once or twice."

"That still doesn't mean anything," she yelled back, finally turning to face Joe. "There were some things she never told you; that she never told anyone!"

"Then how would you know?" Joe screamed, getting even closer. He could see David starting to creep in defensively in favour of his girlfriend, but he didn't care.

Cecelia looked taken aback. She turned her face down towards the ground and shook her head. When she looked back up, Joe was surprised to see tears running down her face. Something deep panged inside of his chest. He hadn't meant to upset her. She retreated slowly, sniffling. "Goodbye, Joe. I hope you enjoy the rest of your time in River Heights. And just so you know, saving her life once or twice doesn't count because you still didn't save her when it really mattered." With that, she ran down the street with a speed that Joe wasn't expecting. Sending a menacing look in Joe's direction, David turned and followed her, calling her name.

With his heart pounding and his mind spinning, Joe tried to decide whether or not to follow them but by the time he had made up his mind, they were already out of sight. Shaking his head with confusion, he turned and crossed the street to the motel with Cecelia's words echoing in his head.

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><p><em>"Nancy," Frank whispered, his heart in his throat. Suddenly, reality had smashed into his brain with disturbing force. "What are we doing?"<em>

_ Nancy inhaled deeply and pressed her lips against Frank's again, but he pulled back sharply. "Frank, please kiss me. Just…please. Kiss me."_

_ "No, Nancy…!" Frank pushed away from her, shaking his head. "Nance, we aren't single. We can't do this! I can't…I can't_ do _this."_

_ "Frank," Nancy whispered, her eyes downward cast. "I need to tell you something." _

_ "Please don't say it," Frank whispered in horror. "You can't say it…please."_

_ Nancy looked up, her eyes full of tears. Suddenly, blood blossomed around her in the water, tangling around itself and spreading towards him._

_ "This is your fault, Frank," she moaned, clutching her stomach. "You killed me."_

_ "Don't say that," Frank whispered. "I didn't…"_

_ "You could have _saved_ me!" Nancy screamed her face pale. "Why didn't you save me?"_

_ "I wanted to…I really did," Frank exclaimed. "I wanted to save you…but I couldn't!"_

Frank sat up in bed with sweat pouring down his face. The door of their motel room had slammed open and Joe had burst in, throwing the bag containing their food on the table.

He opened his mouth angrily, but his face softened when he saw the distress in his brother's eyes.

"Frank," Joe said with concern. "Are you okay?

And with all honestly, Frank could finally say, "No."

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><p><strong>AN: Holy cannoli, that took so much effort to write. But I hope it wasn't TOO rusty. Reviews?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but a pessimistic outlook on life and a degree in sarcasm.**

**A/N: I am hopeful to finish this chapter before I'm 30. I cannot believe I haven't updated since November. As a very real excuse, I recently found the muse and the time again, followed shortly by mono and computer issues. Thank you for the continued faith in this story!**

**Thanks to TrixieNancy124, My Ships, Caranath, Ealasaid Una, Lady Emily, doctor-bacon, Stork Hardy, Agent Striker, leyapearl, all three Guests, Confidential Brunette, readinghottie16, Lazy Panther, Lucy, guest 44 and h2olgd for reviewing!**

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><p>"What's wrong?" Joe asked quietly, crossing the room slowly. He sat on his bed and faced Frank, who was sitting with his head cradled in his head.<p>

"I could have saved Nancy," he whispered, feeling a very heavy weight on his chest. "If I hadn't…"

"If you hadn't what?" Joe asked, confused. He had long been aware that something had happened between Frank and Nancy. He wasn't sure what, but every time Nancy's name had been mentioned in the past year, Frank had been quick to change the subject.

"Nothing," Frank replied quickly, rubbing his eyes and standing up. "I just had a nightmare. About Nancy. It's just been a long day." He saw Joe nod out of the corner of his eye. He knew that his brother wasn't buying anything that he was saying, but he hoped that Joe would, for at least a moment, let it go.

Thankfully, Joe seemed to swallow whatever questions he had and gave his brother a tight grin.

"Did you find anything out before your little power nap?" Joe asked, clearing his throat. He crossed the room and sat down at the table, opening one of the bags. He pulled out the burger he had gotten for himself and took a big bite, grimacing when he realized that it was, in fact, cold. He chewed slowly as Frank filled him in on the three victims; the names, lives and occupations of the three people whose identities had become little more than solid facts and evidence. This was the part of the investigation that always got Joe. Names and places that had meant something—maybe everything—to someone being stripped of their value, being turned into a very small piece within the giant picture of who that person was. What made Joe even sadder was that it was about to happen to someone like Nancy.

"Well?" Frank asked finally, exhaling deeply and leaning back against the table. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked to Joe for input. Without even realizing, Joe had finished his burger, fries and drink. He had always been pretty famous for his appetite, but it was a little concerning that he hadn't appreciated the food in the famous Joe Hardy manner.

"Maybe I'm just tired," Joe said, running a hand through his hair, "but I have got nothing. I can't think of a single thing that ties them together. They literally have nothing in common except for having nothing is common. They are like the three most different type of normal, average people ever."

"Maybe they were just chosen randomly?" Frank suggested. Joe shook his head.

"No way," he replied, playing with the straw that had come in his drink. "Not in a case like this. Why would something go through all that trouble of killing them and making such a big display out of it if the killings didn't mean something, you know?"

Frank nodded in agreement. "You're right. There has to be something that we are overlooking. We need to dig deeper, I guess. I don't know how far I can go back into their records without getting caught, but it is worth a shot." Joe nodded as well and the brothers sat for a moment in silence.

"Honestly," Joe spoke up, breaking the silence, "if anyone could figure this out, it would be Nancy." Frank pressed his lips together tightly.

"That's obviously what happened, then," Frank said roughly. "She knew too much. And someone decided that they had to get rid of her. She was getting too close."

"I hate to say it," Joe sighed, "but that is a story I've heard too many times."

"I know," he said quietly, looking down at the floor. "I wish I knew what she was thinking before she died." Joe fiddled with his straw some more, uncharacteristically quiet. Suddenly, he burst to his feet, simultaneously scaring the living crap out of Frank.

"Alright, I have a confession!" he cried, pacing the room. "I took it, okay!"

"You took what?" Frank asked incredulously, his face a picture of confusion.

"Her journal!" Joe replied, giving Frank a desperate stare. "I took Nancy's diary. I know you told me not to, but I did. And I read it."

"You what?!" Frank roared, his heart dropping. He didn't want to know what was in there. "Joe! You can't just read somebody's diary!"

"Okay, well I didn't read the _whole_ thing," Joe shot back. "But I still feel really guilty!"

Frank thought in silence for a moment. Joe continued to stare at him desperately.

"Well?" Joe asked, inching closer to Frank. "Don't you want to know what it said?"

"No," Frank replied briskly. Almost immediately, his face changed. "Well, yes. I mean, morally…I still don't want to. But if you found something…"

"Well…" Joe started, trailing off. "I didn't."

"What?" Frank questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't find anything," Joe shrugged. "The last few pages of her diary were ripped out. The whole week before she died was gone."

"Do you think…do you think that she did it?" Frank asked, his eyebrows scrunching together.

"Maybe," Joe replied, sitting on the bed. "It makes sense. Especially if Nancy knew that somebody was onto her."

"Or maybe she didn't," Frank suggested. Joe raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. It's just that…if someone went through all that work to…get rid of her…you would think that they would have covered all the bases." Joe nodded slowly.

"And you know what is scary?" Joe said, his face looking pained. Frank shook his head. "The lock on Nancy's window was sawed off. Even if Nancy did it originally, that gave someone full access to any of Nancy's stuff."

"It's a possibility," Frank sighed, running a hand through his hair. He paced the room a couple of times, deep in thought.

"So…" Frank looked up at the sound of Joe's voice. "What do you think? Should we keep reading it?"

Frank hoped his face didn't portray the battle he was facing internally. Finally, after what seemed like eons of silence, he shook his head.

"No," he said, confident in his choice. "You said anything that could have been important was ripped out. What's the point?"

Joe nodded in agreement. After another moment of silence, Joe flopped backwards onto his bed.

"I do not know about you, my dear brother," Joe croaked, his eyes slamming shut, "but I am absolutely exhausted. This case…it really wears me out."

"I know what you mean," Frank nodded tiredly, thinking about the dark circles he had observed under his own eyes hours ago.

"All in favour of sleep?" Joe called, raising his hand limply. Frank let out a short laugh.

"All in favour," he replied, sitting down tiredly. There was shuffling as both brothers sorted out their sleeping attire and sheets, then an exhausted sigh from Joe's side. Taking this cue as an inevitable commence to snoring, Frank closed his eyes tightly.

"Frank?" Joe called out from his bed, his voice sounding tepid. Frank's heart ranked cranked up, nervous at the impending question. He didn't know what Joe had to ask, but there was rarely a question asked in this sort of manner—television or real life—that didn't provoke some sort of heart-wrenching answer.

"Yeah?" Frank croaked, keeping his eyes shut tightly.

"Will you be a doll and shut off the light?" Joe murmured, sleep already drugging his voice. Frank let out a sigh, not knowing whether it was of relief or despair.

"Sure," he replied, hauling his ass out of the hard, unfortunately worn-in bed. "Sure thing, bro."

And with that, Frank head back to bed, sure that sleep was going to come.

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><p>Sleep was never going to come. While it was only half past midnight, Frank felt as though he had been lying in bed for hours. No matter how many times he forced his eyes shut, to his dismay, they would spring open again in seconds. He had long since adjusted to the darkness of the room, the creaky mattress beneath him and the sound of his brother snoring peacefully in the bed beside him.<p>

Something inside of him was stirring restlessly, making him feel jumpy and uncomfortable. After what seemed like decades of trying to calm himself down, he jumped out of bed and shoved his feet into his shoes. He pulled a t-shirt over his head and slipped his arms into his jacket, barely remembering to grab his cell phone and key as he silently crept out of the motel room.

Frank inhaled sharply as the crisp fall air hit his lungs and shoved his hands into his pockets. He took quick, brisk steps, fully aware that he had no idea where he was going.

His mind spun in circles as he wandered down street after street. It took all of his effort to try to catch up with it. A pounding had started in his skull and every breath he took was shaky and full of effort. His mind always arrived at the same answer, the same thought, the same person no matter how much he didn't want it to.

There were so many things that he hadn't let himself think about Nancy. He couldn't bear thinking of her laugh, the way she would quirk one eyebrow, the way her cheeks flushed when she was happy; it all killed him. Every thought of her was like a knife plunging into his gut, stabbing him with guilt, remorse and things left unsaid.

Why hadn't he apologized? Was his masculine pride that stubborn that he couldn't sit down and talk to her like a regular human being?

"_Nancy," Frank whispered, his heart in his throat. Suddenly, reality had smashed into his brain with disturbing force. "What are we doing?"_

_Nancy inhaled deeply and pressed her lips against Frank's again, but he pulled back sharply. "Frank, please kiss me. Just…please. Kiss me."_

Frank should have kissed her. He should have kissed her and held her and never let her go. He knew he loved Callie and he had felt that when he asked her to marry him, but if he had just let go and kissed her maybe she would still be alive now.

"_Nancy…" Frank croaked, shutting his eyes. "We can't do this. This isn't who we are."_

"_It could be, though!" Nancy replied quickly, grabbing his wrists tightly and pulling him closer. "Frank…doesn't this feel _right_?"_

It felt right. God, it was wrong and Frank knew that, but it felt so right and _she _felt so right and fit so well in his arms and her kisses made everything better and brighter and perfect.

"_No," Frank lied desperately. "No, Nancy, this doesn't feel right. Why are we doing this?"_

"_Frank," Nancy whispered, her eyes downward cast. "I need to tell you something." _

God, he wanted her to say it. He wanted—no, _needed_—her to say it. He had felt it, in every kiss and every touch and all he wanted was for her to say it. Maybe it would have changed everything.

"_Please don't say it," Frank whispered in horror. "You can't say it…please."_

"_Frank, I need to say it!" Nancy cried, looking up. Frank's stomach dropped when he saw tears swell in her eyes. _

All he wanted to do was kiss her tears away. Why hadn't he?

"_Don't," Frank replied woefully. "Don't be stupid." _

"_It's not stupid," Nancy whispered, her voice soft. "Do you think this is stupid?" Suddenly they were pressed together again. Nancy hesitantly placed her hands on his chest and stared up into his eyes. Frank's breath caught in his throat and he struggled to think. _

"Kiss her, you bastard," Frank growled and then stopped in his tracks, startled by the sound of his own voice. He felt the blood rush out of his face as he registered what he had said, what he had been thinking. His knees quaked beneath him and he sank down onto the sidewalk, his head in his hands.

_This had to stop. If he kissed her, it would cause a ripple effect of pain and destruction. Callie, Ned…their families, their friends…everything would be impacted. Desperation fluttered in his stomach as his throat tightened. He had to do something. _

"Don't do it," Frank whispered to himself, his breathing labored. "Why would you do it?"

_Frank watched her face change from shock to a mask of pain unlike any he had ever seen before. What had just happened? Why was he suddenly so far away from her? What had he just said? And then, with stunning clarity, it hit him._

Frank shook his head violently, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he could. He wanted to cry, he really did, but if he did then it became real and then everything would change.

He opened his eyes miserably and felt a little familiar stab in his stomach when he realized he was sitting across the street from Nancy's house. With a mirthless laugh, he shook his head. He rubbed his itching eyes and tried to clear his mind. So many times he had found himself in front of her house, feeling light with the anticipation of seeing her. Now, staring at the darkened windows and shadows of the house, his chest deflated with knowledge that he would never feel like that again. He would never see her again.

Did that mean he would never feel anything again?

Before he could start the internal struggle with himself, something caught his eye. A quick, dark figure suddenly landed on the ground at the side of the house, just by the base of the tree outside Nancy's window. He sat up straight, his spine rigid and watched as the figure crept along the side of the house with a bag thrown purposefully across their shoulder.

Frank inched backwards on the sidewalk until he was mostly concealed by the bushes behind him. He tried to remain still but sudden rage filled inside of him, causing an undeniable energy in his bones. He clenched his teeth as he watched the figure creep out of the yard.

Then, with no warning, the person stopped in the middle of the street. The streetlight shone down harshly on them, shadowing what wasn't already hidden by their black clothing. With a mask covering their eyes and a hat over their head, they pursed their lips. Frank held his breath, begging not to be seen but what happened next guaranteed that his cover was blown.

The figure extended their free hand out in front of them, making the shape of a gun with their fingers, and pointed directly at Frank. They mimed shooting it and before Frank could even fathom what was happening, they turned on their heel and began to run.

Before he could even blink, Frank was on his feet chasing after them. The asphalt blurred under his feet as he tried to gain speed, but it was too late.

The figure turned a corner and the unmistakable sound of a car revving its engine made Frank's heart drop.

Running faster than he ever had before, Frank rounded the corner just in time to see the car pull away from the curb with a screech.

He stopped in his tracks and bent over, trying to catch his breath. When he stood back up, he couldn't help but smile.

He had gotten the license plate.

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><p><strong>AN: Woooo, look at that! Sometimes I do write!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I thank all the wonderful people who don't sue me for using their wonderful characters for my own twisted, sick enjoyment and don't cry when I hurtthem.**

**A/N: Fear not, friends! What may seem like a filler chapter will bring upon cliffhangers! Thanks to zenfrodo, the four Guest reviewers, FreshKicks, heawee, leyapearl, Lazy Panther and ****athena-gia-ma'at**** for reviewing! Y'all make me smile.**

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><p>Frank threw open the door to their motel room with a mighty thud. Joe jumped out of bed like his pants were on fire and made a move to pounce until the lights flipped on, revealing the pale and half-crazed face of his brother.<p>

"What the hell, man?!" Joe cried, exhaling shakily. He ran both hands through his messy hair and stalked over to his brother. "What do you think you are doing?!"

Frank pressed his lips together. He shook his head in disbelief of what had just happened and walked over to his bed, crashing down unsteadily.

"What happened?" Joe asked, bewildered. "You scared the freaking crap out of me. When did you even leave?"

"I don't know," Frank replied, shaking his head. "Like an hour ago. You were asleep."

"Well, this may come as a surprise," Joe started, giving his brother a pointed look, "but sometimes, at night, _people sleep_!"

"Not now, Joe," Frank responded, giving his brother a look. Joe could sense shock emanating off of him and sat down on his own bed.

"Frank, what is going on?" Joe asked, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his legs. "Where the hell did you go?"

"I was just walking," Frank said shakily, swallowing hard. "I needed to think about things and next thing I knew I was in front of Nancy's house…and I was just sitting on the sidewalk and someone frigging jumped out of a window."

"At Nancy's house?" Joe clarified, his eyes wide.

"Yeah," Frank nodded, taking a deep breath. "They were dressed all in black and they had a bag full of stuff with them. I was hiding in some bushes, but I guess they saw me because then they…goddamn it."

"They did what?" Joe asked urgently. "Are you okay?" Frank nodded, his eyes looking distant.

"They stepped into the light," Frank started slowly, "and then mimed shooting me with their fingers." Joe raised his eyebrows and his face crinkled with confusion.

"Sorry, but what?" Joe cried incredulously. "Like Cowboys and Indians style?"

"Uh, yeah," Frank answered, looking just as confused as Joe. "Then they full on booked it down the road."

"Well, did you follow them?" Joe demanded, his face still a picture of confusion.

Frank nodded. "They were frigging fast, though. I followed as closely as I could, but then they got into a car before I could catch up." He gripped the sheets tightly in his fists while Joe stared at him, waiting for the rest.

"That's it?!" Joe cried, throwing his hands in the air. Frank smirked a little and Joe almost shuddered. That small grin didn't look like something that belonged on Frank's face.

"I got the plates," Frank replied proudly, albeit with exhaustion. He ran his hands through his hair again and Joe jumped to his feet, cradling his brother's head between his hands.

"I could kiss you, you know," Joe said fondly, shaking his head and doing an excited little dance.

"Please don't," Frank grimaced. "You would ruin my elation." Joe nodded understandingly and crossed the room to the table.

"What was it?" Joe demanded, grabbing a pen and one of the napkins from their dinner off of the table. Frank rattled off the plate number and Joe scribbled it quickly.

"Marvelous," Joe exclaimed, putting the napkin down on the table and flopping back down on his bed.

Frank nodded, looking at the floor. He couldn't believe what had just happened.

"We'll run the plates first thing in the morning," Joe spoke up, his voice muffled by the pillow. "But all this excitement has worn me out and you know how I get when I don't get enough sleep."

Frank forced a chuckle and turned off the bedroom light, knowing fully well that sleep was a lost cause.

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><p><em>Frank moved as if his limbs were rusty. Every particle within him radiated a poisonous guilt that made moving painful but he knew if he stopped moving for even a second he would be engulfed—suffocated—by his own misdeeds.<em>

_ "Were you out last night?" Joe yawned, jiggling the sticky zipper on his well-loved suitcase. "I thought I heard the door open."_

_ Frank stared at him blankly, as if not registering what his brother was saying. Joe raised his eyebrows._

_ "Hello? Breaker-breaker, good buddy?" Joe called and Frank's head snapped up._

_ "No," he responded hastily, his jaw catching as he fumbled for words. "I mean…I mean, yes. I called Callie. Time difference and such."_

_ "Alright then," Joe replied, squinting his eyes at his brother. "Are you okay?"_

_ "I'm fine," Frank swallowed, jamming his hands into his pocket._

_ "If you insist," shrugged Joe. Slinging his backpack over his shoulders, he knocked on the adjoining door between their room and Nancy's. Hearing no response, he pushed the door open and peered inside. _

_ "Huh."_

_ Frank's mouth dried up. "Wh-what is it?"_

_ "Nancy's gone," Joe replied, pulling his head back into the room. "She left without saying goodbye. That isn't like her. I hope she's alright."_

_ Dead silence hung between them, but only Frank was aware. Sinking onto his bed, he recalled the previous night. _

_ Frank's own words wrapped around his heart with a glacial grip, pulling it down into the depths of his stomach. _

_ Nancy definitely wasn't alright._

* * *

><p>Frank woke to yells. Opening his eyes blearily, he propped himself up on his elbows and stared at his brother, who was sitting at the tiny kitchen table in their motel room. He sipped his coffee casually, but his forehead was creased with tension.<p>

"What?" Frank moaned, running a hand over his sleep-weary face. "What could possibly be this exciting at 7:30 in the morning?"

"Well," Joe started, slamming his mug down on the table. "I got frustrated. I ran the plates." Frank leaned forwards and lifted an eyebrow.

"Nothing?" Frank sighed.

"Oh, certainly not nothing," Joe replied cheerily. "Mitchell Howland in good old Michigan reported the car as stolen seven months ago. But other than that…yeah, nothing."

"Fantastic," Frank nodded, pulling his feet over the side of the bed. "What a great way to start my day."

"You know it," Joe replied, toasting his with his mug. He watched closely as Frank rose to his full height and crossed the room to the bathroom. Even when his face was relaxed, Joe could see the ghosts of lines creasing his forehead. He knew that Nancy's death had to be affecting Frank deeply, as it was himself, but his concern was growing by the day. He had never seen his brother act so out of character for such a long period of time.

Placing his empty mug back on the counter, Joe stood and stretched so that his fingers grazed the ceiling. In long strides, he crossed the room and rapped on the bathroom door.

"Uh, yeah?" Frank replied, his voice echoing in the tiny bathroom.

"I think we should stop by Nancy's place again today," Joe called, leaning his shoulder against the dull wooden door. "You know, look around and see if we can find anything our masked bandit left behind."

"Sounds good," Frank responded. From Joe's position outside the door, he could hear the faint sound of the shower being turned on.

"Now, don't take too long getting pretty," Joe warned, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "We haven't got all day. And, besides, we all know I'm the better looking one. Wouldn't want to waste all that effort trying, now would we?"

"Very funny," Frank grumbled. As the rings on the shower curtain slid across the shower rod, Joe slumped. The effort of trying not to seem worried was overwhelming.

Hearing his phone beep, Joe sauntered over to his bed and rolled onto it, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he did so.

_'Missing you'_, the screen read in large letters. Joe sighed mournfully and closed his eyes. Usually, in difficult times, Vanessa was his shoulder to lean on. He felt as though he needed her now more than ever. His phone buzzed again and he took another look at the brightly lit screen. _'When are you coming home, baby?' _

_ 'Soon,' _he typed, pressing each button with force. _'Soon, I hope.'_

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><p>With his brother at his side, Joe knocked casually on the white wooden door of the Drew's house. He had always admired how genuinely wholesome and comforting it was. Something about it reminded him of sitcoms from the 70's and freshly baked bread. Before, it had been so welcoming. Now, though…now he wished he never had to go in it again.<p>

The door swung open to reveal the Drew's housekeeper, Hannah, on the other side. Her graying hair was starting to frizz around her temples and her face looked worn with exhaustion.

"Oh, my goodness," she exclaimed, stepping onto the porch and pulling the brothers into her arms. "It's been so long since I've seen you boys!"

She pulled back and examined them at arm's length.

"Still as handsome as ever, I see," she declared, turning up the corners of her mouth in a smile that wasn't quite convincing. Her eyes, always so kind, were sagging with the same kind of sadness that Joe felt burning in his chest. Nothing about her face was familiar; the smile that had once had been painted so permanently on her face had fallen into her thin lips, giving way to the heaviness of her aging skin. The rosiness, the warmth in her face was replaced by something much more somber.

While she wasn't related to Nancy in any way, Joe had always been aware of the bond between the two. She was a mother to Nancy in a way no one else had ever been and, in turn, Nancy had been the daughter that life hadn't granted her. Their bond had been special and cherished in a way that was unmatched by many others.

"So, what brings you boys by?" Hannah asked, smoothing down non-existent folds in her blouse.

"We…" Joe started, trailing off and looking to Frank to finish his sentence.

"We wanted to see how everyone was doing," Frank stated quietly, his face drawn in sympathy. Hannah swallowed hard and looked down at her shoes.

"Well, I…" she started, her voice cracking. The brothers exchanged helpless looks as she took a deep breath. Looking back up, she fixed her face with a neutral look, barely masquerading her pain. "I suppose we are doing the best we can despite the situation. This isn't something I would like to discuss on the veranda, though. Could I interest you in some breakfast?"

"Well, I certainly couldn't turn down breakfast," Joe replied slowly. "Especially not breakfast by Hannah. That is just sacrilegious." Hannah smiled wanly.

"That's my boy," she replied softly, opening the door wider to accommodate for the brothers.

The Hardy's followed Hannah through the bare and empty house back to the kitchen, walking slowly and quietly behind her.

"I'm trying to clear out some of this food anyways," Hannah told them, gesturing at the brothers to sit at the kitchen table. "It would be a shame to let it spoil. I'm afraid Carson hasn't been much in the mood to eat lately."

"That's understandable," Joe nodded, his voice sympathetic. As Hannah rummaged around in the fridge, gathering ingredients and tucking them under her arms, Joe leaned forwards on the kitchen table and snuck a glance at his brother. Frank was slumping in his chair, his eyes heavily bagged and his normally tidy hair ruffled. But Joe could see that it was more than just physical exhaustion wearing him down: being in Nancy's house, hunting her killer; it was a heavy weight bearing down on both of them.

"I hope you're hungry," Hannah called over her shoulder.

"Well, I always am," Joe replied, putting his arm on the back of his chair and turning to look at her.

"I never worry about making too much food when you are around," Hannah said softly. "It has been an awfully long time since I've seen you boys, though."

"Too long," Joe agreed sadly, his eyes turning towards the floor. There was a moment of silence, but his eyes shot back up in surprise at the sound of Frank's voice.

"How have you been?" Frank asked quietly. Joe examined his brother with thoughtful eyes. His voice sounded sincere, quite unlike the hard tone he had adopted throughout their time in River Heights. There was something in his eyes that told Joe he wasn't just putting it on either. Hannah paused at the fridge door, her hand gripping tightly at the handle. She inhaled very shakily.

"About as well as can be expected," she said softly, scooping various items into her arms. "We're all making do the best we can around here."

"Of course," Joe replied quietly, his throat feeling strangely tight. It tore him apart to hear the pain in Hannah's voice. A few moments of heavy silence weighed down the kitchen as the brothers sat uncomfortably at the kitchen table, watching Hannah whisk together their meal.

"If there is anything we can do," Frank started, staring down at the table, "to make things a little easier, please, let us know." Hannah glanced over her shoulder as she poured batter into a frying pan.

"Really, Hannah," Joe piped in, "we would like to do anything we could. Anything at all."

"Well, if I think of anything I'll be sure to let you boys know," Hannah told them, a small smile gracing her tired face as she slide pancakes from the pan and onto a plate.

Barely minutes passed before the boys were digging into their meals. Hannah stared at them tiredly, sipping absentmindedly on a cup of coffee.

"This is fantastic," Joe told her enthusiastically, running his fork around his plate in search for any morsel of food that may be left behind.

"It really is," Frank agreed quietly. Hannah smiled again.

"Well, it is one thing for Joe to compliment my food," she started, looking down into her coffee, "but to hear it from Frank must mean it isn't too bad."

"I would never lie to you, Hannah," Joe cried, delicately placing his fork back on his plate. Hannah gave him a kind look.

"True, but I've heard you say similar things about food from the gas station," she replied, giving his shoulder a little squeeze as she reached forwards for his plate.

"We don't mind taking care of the dishes," the younger Hardy told her, rushing to his feet. "That way you can take a few moments to relax."

"Oh, nonsense," she told him, already filling the sink. "It helps me keep my mind off of things."

"Oh…of course," Joe responded quietly, sinking back into his chair. He looked at his brother with a tight look on his face. Frank shrugged, his face looking equally as pained. Hannah, already busy cleaning up, didn't seem to notice. They sat in silence for a moment, both brothers staring in the dredges of their coffee cups, before Joe looked up.

"We, uh, we saw Cecelia and David the other day," Joe told her, leaning back in his chair. "Have you seen them around?"

"Who?" Hannah asked, not looking up from her dishes. Joe crinkled his brow.

"Cecelia and David? Nancy's cousin and her boyfriend?" he replied, looking at Frank. He seemed to be thinking the same thing as Joe.

"I'm sorry, Joe, but I have no idea who you are talking about," Hannah responded, giving him a confused look from over her shoulder. "But I never could keep up with the family tree. It would be best if you asked Carson."

"Oh," Frank said, surprised. "Is Carson home?"

"He's in the den," she answered. "I'm afraid he hasn't gone out much since…well, in a while."

"Well, I suppose we should have a word with him before we leave," Joe said questioningly, looking towards Frank. His brother nodded.

"Of course," Hannah said, drying her hands on a dish towel. "It was a pleasure to see you boys again." She opened her arms for a hug. Joe leaned in and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"She was amazing," Joe whispered in her ear. "Nancy was amazing, and a lot of that was thanks to you." The hug, which was momentarily stiff, suddenly softened. He heard Hannah sniff into his shoulder and hugged her all the more closely. She pulled back, wiping her eyes, and gave Joe a smile that reminded him how strong she really was. She turned to hug Frank, who leaned down to hug her back.

"Thank you for everything," he told her quietly. She nodded and pulled back.

"Drop by whenever you would like," she told him. Her face was soft, but Frank noticed something in her eyes. He nodded, feeling ashamed as he wondered

"We'll stop by one last time before we leave," Joe told her, smiling. Hannah nodded and turned back to the dishes. As they started towards the basement, Joe looked back at her one last time. His heart sunk watching her, gripping the sink tightly with her head hung. Shaking his head sadly, he turned back towards his brother.

"Let's go," he mouthed, unable to watch. Frank nodded, leading the way towards the basement. As much as it hurt him to see Hannah like that, he knew that the best way to help her was to find Nancy's killer. It was all he could do at that point.

The boys slowly descended the stairs to the basement, trailing their hands along the wall in the dim lighting. Suddenly, a soft moan made them stop in their tracks. Joe winced, knowing what the sound must be. Frank looked over his shoulder at him, his face a mirror to Joe's own. They tentatively continued down the stairs, quietly as they could.

"Mr. Drew?" Frank called out, wincing at the decibel of his voice. The basement was cold and musty, the darkness casting shadows around the room. Most of the furniture was pushed against one wall, except for a single chair propped against the far wall. As the brothers rounded the corner, they were not at all surprised to see Carson sitting in it.

"Boys," he croaked, wiping his face and sniffing. "I didn't know you were here. I would have come…"

"Don't worry about it," Joe responded, walking slowly towards him. "Is everything alright?" Frank nudged him and Joe winced. It was quite obvious that it wasn't.

"I just…"Carson sniffed, holding the book that was previously in his lap to his chest. "I just I didn't let myself feel it until now." Joe felt his heart drop in his chest at the agony in his voice. He couldn't imagine what he must feel like. Looking around the room, he saw an empty bottle of some alcoholic variety sitting next to him and winced again.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Drew," Frank sighed, pulling another chair towards him. Joe followed suit, sitting on the opposite side. As Carson leaned down to wipe his eyes again, Joe gestured to the bottle on the floor beside him. From over Carson's shoulder, Frank shrugged helplessly. As he leaned back up, Joe timidly put an arm around his back.

"We're here for you," Joe said quietly, his mind racing to figure out a solution to the problem at hand. He could see that Frank was just as troubled as he was.

"She was just so perfect," Carson inhaled shakily, opening the book on his lap. His finger traced a picture of a young Nancy, following the curve of a chubby cheek that had long disappeared into adolescence. Frank felt his body go slack.

"She really was perfect," Frank whispered, swallowing hard as he stared at the picture. "And so beautiful." Carson looked at him through watery eyes, as if judging him. Frank swallowed again, feeling his brother's eyes on him as well. Carson opened his mouth, and the elder Hardy prepared himself for some sort of verbal abuse but instead, a tortured sob escaped his throat and he threw himself onto Joe, weeping into the younger man's shoulder. Joe's face contorted in surprise and he awkwardly patted Carson on the back. He had often prided himself on being excellent at comforting people, but the situation at hand had never arisen. He had never needed to comfort someone on the loss of a child, especially one he himself was missing so fiercely. Joe closed his eyes briefly, before turning them back on his brother.

"Go search her room," he mimed to Frank, who nodded and jumped to his feet, seemingly feeling as uncomfortable as Joe did.

"I'm just going to the washroom," Frank blurted out, wincing at how untruthful he sounded. Joe rolled his eyes at his brother.

"Go!" he mouthed, shooing him away.

Frank bounded up the stairs in silent leaps, feeling his body unwind as he got farther away. As he arrived on the second floor landing, he let his body slump into the wall momentarily. Every single emotion he had seen in Carson's eyes he felt deep in his stomach. Seeing that picture of Nancy, with her wide smile and blue eyes had probably taken a year off of his life.

Taking a breath, Frank quietly opened the door to Nancy's room. Everything appeared just as they had left it. His critical eyes, seasoned with years of experience scanned the room quickly as he shut the door behind him. Suddenly, a light breeze tickled his cheek, and Frank's eyes shot over to the window, squinting to make sure they weren't playing tricks on him. With big steps, he crossed the room and knelt down.

The broken latch to the window was completely ripped off, lying forgotten on the floor. The window, which he knew had been closed, was open ever so slightly – just enough for the wind to fan the curtains out around him. Pushing the window open even wider, Frank stuck his head outside and ran his fingers over the frame, desperately searching for anything that may have gotten caught. Feeling dejected, he pulled his head back into the room and sighed.

Frank backed away from the window slowly, turning to see if there was anything else he had missed. Without realizing it, he took a seat on her bed and ran his fingers across her pillow. He could still smell her perfume. His eyes drifted closed again and he exhaled erratically. The room felt tight and suffocating, empty and yet so full all at the same time. Frank shuddered and placed his head in his hands. It was like she was in the room with him.

After a moment, Frank looked up. He stretched his legs out and then started, having felt something under his feet. Looking down, he noticed something peeking out from under her bed. Furrowing his brows, he knelt to the ground and lifted up her bedspread. Reaching his underneath, he pulled out book after book, knick knacks and other things that he knew had not been there before. Biting his lip, he turned to his side and opened the drawer of her bedside table. It was empty. Why would someone break in and only go through one drawer? Frank leaned back against the bed.

_Her journal_. The words popped into his head before he could even begin to think.

"Someone must have been looking for her journal," he repeated aloud to himself, rubbing his hand through his hair. He thought back to the innocent little book, sitting in a pile of stuff in their hotel room, and wondered what was in it that was so important.

_You_, a voice in his head said, causing Frank to shake his head. No, Joe had read the journal. Whatever they must have been looking for would have been in those last few pages, wherever they were.

"Shit," Frank mumbled, rising slowly to his feet and hearing his joints pop. They needed to find those pages. Of course Nancy would have been smart enough to hide them, especially if she thought someone was onto her. His mind whirred with possibilities as he stretched, his head aching from thought. Glancing at his watch, Frank realized with panic that he had been there for nearly ten minutes. Drunk as he was, Carson would notice he was missing.

Frank turned back towards the door, but something stopped him. Rotating slowly, he glanced at the bulletin board above Nancy's desk. Pictures were missing, glaring at him with purpose. He crossed the room again and ran his fingers over the textured surface, willing himself to remember what they had been of. The journal, the photographs…someone was trying hard to erase something that was apparently obvious.

Frank shook his head slowly. Whoever was doing this was making a huge mistake. They thought that by getting rid of the things out in the open, they were making themselves more discreet. But, in reality, all they were doing was alerting Frank to how blind he was being.

With a small, unfamiliar smirk, Frank went back to the door before pausing. Remembering that the window was open, he walked back towards it. But no sooner than he had put his hand on the frame, his heart stopped. In that moment, he had noticed two things.

His initials carved into the white, wooden window frame with shavings indicating their freshness.

And a small, almost unnoticeable picture lying on the ground, facedown under Nancy's window.

* * *

><p>Joe slowly patted Carson's back, his own body heaving with the older man's immense sobs.<p>

"She was an angel," Carson cried, pounding his fist on Joe's chest. "A goddamn angel and she's gone…"

Joe closed his eyes painfully. His heart breaking slowly, fracturing and splintering into sharp pieces. "I know, Mr. Drew. I'm so sorry. I miss her too. Every day I miss her. I just…I just wish I could have done something to save her."

"You should have," Carson said brokenly, sitting up suddenly. Joe blinked in shock, pulling his hand away in defense.

"I…I'm sorry?" Joe stuttered, feeling his throat go dry. Carson shook his head, his sobs getting louder.

"You boys," he said softly, covering his face, "were a bad influence on her. Always dragging her around the world, putting her in danger...!"

"We didn't drag her anywhere," Joe said defensively, his face dropping. "Nobody could have made Nancy do anything she didn't want to do." Carson nodded dramatically, but then shook his head just as fiercely.

"You boys could," he told Joe, sniffling. "Something about you…you encouraged her sleuthing a-and, in the end…th-that was what killed her…!" Joe cast his eyes down towards the ground, his shoulders curling forwards with guilt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, shrinking into himself. "I can't…I'm so…" Carson observed him for a moment, sniffling.

"Joe," he said softly, putting his arm around the boy in an ironic turn of event, "I don't blame you or Frank. I-I'm sorry if I made you think that. I just wonder, sometimes, if that she hadn't met you…"

Joe looked up at Carson with damp eyes. He seemed to sober up in front of his eyes.

"But I never saw Nancy _so _happy," he continued quietly, making Joe wonder if Carson realized he was still there, "as she was when she was with you."

Joe swallowed hard, his vision blurring outside of his control.

"I…I've lost everything," Carson spoke up again, filling the empty room with his voice. "My wife, my daughter…I just can't begin to tell you…" His voice trailed quietly and his shoulders shook. Joe squeezed his eyes shut tightly, his heart imploding.

The two men sat in silence for a moment, side by side, until the sound of Frank's footsteps on the stairs startled them. His face looked drawn and his body language told Joe that he had found something.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Drew," Frank started, staying on the stairs, "but Joe and I have got to go."

Carson wiped his eyes and got to his feet shakily. "Of course, boys. I expect I should get myself cleaned up anyways." Joe stood as well, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans.

Frank turned to begin the climb back up the stairs but stopped suddenly, turning. "But please, call us. If you need anything." Carson nodded seriously.

"I will," he promised, weakly smiling. "Of course I will." He turned and gave Joe a look, who nodded his understanding.

"We'll be seeing you soon," Joe croaked, pressing his lips together. Carson smiled at him.

"Of course," Carson nodded. "Goodbye, boys. And thank you…for coming."

"Anytime," Frank told him seriously and Joe caught up to him, taking one more look at Carson before he climbed the stairs.

He was standing alone in an empty room, his head bowed and his hands folded. As he tore his eyes away, Joe tried to swallow the lump in his throat and wished with all his might that he could fix this, fix everything.

But of course, he knew he couldn't.

* * *

><p>Frank grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him outside, being careful to shut the door quietly behind him.<p>

"Ow," Joe whined, rubbing his arm. Frank glanced back at him and noticed his face was unusually red.

"I'm sorry," Frank replied, but then his voice softened. "Are you alright?"

Joe gave Frank a sad smile. "Of course not. But what can you do?" Frank's heart squeezed in agony as he stared at his younger brother. Then, because it was all he could do, he wrapped his arms tightly around Joe.

Normally, Frank would expect Joe to protest and make some sort of corny joke, but he wasn't surprised at all when his brother hugged him back.

"Thanks," Joe whispered, clapping his brother on the back. He pulled away and sighed shakily. "So, did you find something?" Frank's eyes lit up.

"Follow me," Frank told him, jogging towards the backyard. Joe followed, his eyebrows raised. Frank sounded different somehow. Better, almost.

The brothers raced towards the side of the house, stopping in front of the tree next to Nancy's window.

Frank looked up and Joe followed his gaze. "They came in, and the branch broke off…" Frank gestured towards their feet and Joe nodded.

"So they would have had to jump when they left?" Joe questioned, staring at the branch by their feet.

"Right," Frank nodded, kneeling beside the branch. "And all the leaves went everywhere from the branch, I almost didn't notice…" He ruffled his hands through the leaves and came back up with a piece of paper.

"What is it?" Joe asked, looking over his brother's shoulder as Frank's eyes widened. "A picture?"

"Yeah, a picture," Frank replied, swallowing. "Of Nancy and someone who looks a hell of a lot like David."

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><p><strong>AN: Mentally, I am exhausted. The sheer length and effort of this chapter has killed me and I can only be resuscitated by your lovely reviews.**

**Of course, I am also ever-so-slightly out of practice, so don't tear me apart TOO badly. Then it will be TWICE as long until the next chapter!\**

**Also, this site has changed. Blame me not for weird formatting errors!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm not even sure I own these pants.**

**A/N: Good day, my lovelies. It would appear to be time for my seasonal update. I really must thank you all for putting up with my sporadic updating schedule with such patience and I'm so lucky to have such fabulous people reading my humble offerings! I've put a lot of thought into the direction I want the story to go and have planned my bum off so everything is underway…but slowly. As is my writing style. By the way, guys…your theories make me dance. Keep them coming! I want so badly to tell you what is going on so that you can gasp and dance with me but alas…that is not how writing works. So I thank you again for your patience! Thank you to VerityD, Cupcake, KennaC, Stork Hardy, Kickin'it, Reader277, Jabba1, Colie88, j, FreshKicks and the three Guest reviewers for reviewing!**

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><p>The brothers stared down at the picture in Frank's hand in silence. The leaves in the yard blew past them in a tumble of wind, sticking to their legs and then disappearing behind them. A cool sun beat down on them from a sky smeared with white clouds. Somewhere down the road, a child on a bicycle wreaked havoc on their bell. Things kept moving around them, but Joe felt frozen in the moment.<p>

"Well then," he breathed, shoving his hands into his pockets. He inhaled crisp air and held it, raising his eyebrows at Frank. His older brother continued staring at the picture, his eyes tracing over the image as if memorizing its every detail.

"I don't…know," Frank huffed, clutching the photo in his hand. He should have been staring at the man in the picture, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Nancy. Her face was radiant, all flushed and happy. But the more he stared at her, the more evident it became: Nancy's eyes, which should have been as exuberant as the rest of her, were fierce. It was something Frank missed. Nancy knew something. Nancy was lying.

"Look at her face," Frank told his brother, shoving the picture into his hand. He watched as Joe's eyes scanned the photo, stopping briefly on her face before looking up.

"She knew something," Joe blurted incredulously. "I can't describe how I know, but her eyes…"

"She knew something," Frank confirmed, taking back the photo and folding it carefully before placing it in his pocket. "We need to find out who this is."

The brothers began walking out of Nancy's yard and down the street, their footsteps falling into a hurried rhythm. Joe scoffed.

"Do we really?" he asked loudly, his face disbelieving. "It's clearly David!"

"Clearly," Frank replied carefully, looking straight ahead, "it _appears_ to be David. But this guy is blond and we can't afford to jump to conclusions."

"I like jumping to conclusions," Joe grumbled, furrowing his brow. "You've got to admit that there is something weird about him, Frank. Him and Cecelia. There's something…"

"Off," Frank finished, nodding his head slowly. He had been thinking the exact same thing ever since they had seen the couple at the funeral. "I know. But we need to be careful about this."

Joe sighed and nodded his head in resignation. The brothers walked in silence down the street for a few moments before Joe turned to look at his brother again. He examined Frank's serious profile with careful consideration. Everything about the conversation they had just had was _so_ reminiscent of the Frank he knew.

"So," Joe started slowly, clearing his throat. Frank turned to look at him. "How are you?" Frank considered the question for a moment, and Joe felt inexplicably nervous.

"Well," Frank began, his voice devoid of emotion, "I don't really know…"

His words trailed off and Joe felt a pang in his chest.

"You can talk to me, Frank," Joe told him seriously. Frank stared at the ground as if willing it to move faster beneath his feet. "Everything you are feeling about Nancy, I'm feeling too." Frank barked a mirthless laugh, startling Joe enough to stop him in his tracks. When Frank looked back, his eyes closed in pain at the expression on his brother's face.

"What?" Joe demanded, taking long strides towards him. "You don't think that I miss Nancy too?"

"Joe…" Frank groaned, running a hand over his face. "I don't want you to think that."

"Then why did you laugh?" Joe spat, his voice harsh but his face hurt and confused. "I miss her so much, Frank. She was my best friend."

"I know," Frank replied softly, looking down. "I'm sorry. It just came out of nowhere."

"You can't keep using that as an excuse," Joe said sadly, continuing forwards. "I know something is bothering you and if you don't want to tell me, then that is up to you. But I just want to see you smile again."

Frank walked in silence beside his brother, trying to keep his face neutral. There was no possible way he could think of to tell Joe what he had done; what he was feeling. He would call him a monster. He'd probably beat the crap out of him. His little brother, who once idolized him, would never look at him the same way again.

"Actually," Frank began, not daring to look at Joe, "there is something." Joe looked up hopefully at his brother.

"What is it?" he replied, trying to control his voice.

"There was something else in Nancy's room," Frank told him, picking up his pace and pretending not to notice the disappointed droop in Joe's shoulder. "Something else by the window."

"Well?" Joe sighed, not caring about if Frank saw how annoyed he was with his discretion. Frank coughed and looked away, before surprising Joe by looking him straight in the eye. He was trying to be impassive, but he could see his older brother's gaze waver.

"On the windowsill," Frank told him. "Someone carved my initials."

"F.H.?" Joe asked, raising his eyebrows. "I don't know if that is so suspicious, Frank."

"Why not?" he demanded, his voice wavering. Joe rolled his eyes.

"It could have been Nancy," Joe pointed out, rubbing his cold hands together. "Maybe she had a thing for you." There was no ignoring the tension in Frank's shoulders as he said that. Joe observed his brother carefully, waiting for any given movement to give away his thoughts. But, to his distress, Frank regained control of his emotions. Joe cringed at the falsity of his brother's laugh.

"N-Nancy wasn't like that," Frank responded in an attempt at casual. "Besides, Joe…it was fresh. Like someone had just done it. Shavings and all."

"That's a little strange," Joe allowed. The boys turned the corner at a more leisurely pace. "I guess that means that they know we're onto them."

"But who is they?" Frank questioned helplessly. "We have no idea who it could be."

"That's the mystery, my dear brother," Joe sighed again, slinging an arm over his brother's shoulder. Frank grimaced and pulled away from him, but Joe was relieved to see a small smile gracing his brother's face. The brothers continued walking in comfortable silence for a few moments before Frank stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk.

"What is it?" Joe asked, looking around. Frank tilted his head towards his brother and squinted his eyes.

"Where are we going?" Frank questioned, putting his hands on his hips. "I've been following you."

Joe shrugged innocently. Frank took a step towards him, his eyes narrowing further.

"I'm not blind, Joe. I can see David's bookstore in front of us," he continued, smirking slightly. "What happened to being careful?"

"What could be more careful than nonchalantly pursuing a fine selection of books?" Joe offered casually, continuing forwards and giving Frank a sidelong look. "It's just an acceptable coincidence that David happens to own a bookstore."

"Right," Frank snorted, falling back into step with his brother.

"Hey," Joe countered, nudging Frank with his elbow, "it doesn't hurt just to check the place out, does it? It isn't like we're going to give him the third degree."

"Sure…" Frank replied hesitantly, giving his brother a pointed look as they crossed the street.

"I _promise_, Frank," Joe enunciated, placing a hand on his heart, "I give you my solemn vow that I will say nary a _word_ concerning anything other than books."

The brothers approached the storefront slowly. Frank exhaled a quiet laugh.

"I believe it," Frank told him sincerely. Joe could barely raise his eyebrows before he continued. "I believe you won't, because you won't be talking to him at all. It's closed."

"What?" Joe cried, pressing his hands against the glass door. "I have literary needs, David!"

Frank rolled his eyes and tugged gently on the sleeve of Joe's jacket. "You're going to leave a mark."

"Of course you would care about that," Joe scoffed, pulling away from the window and glancing back with a look of disdain. "What now?"

Frank shrugged before glancing down the street. "Feel like getting some coffee?"

Joe gave him a questioning look, but trailed behind Frank curiously. "How is that a strategic move in the development of this case, exactly?"

"Well, I heard the coffee is really great at this one place," Frank replied, leading Joe down the empty sidewalk.

"Is it Starbucks, by chance?" Joe joked, glancing at the storefronts. One thing he loved about River Heights was that everything was so quaint. "Because I think I've heard of them once or twice."

"Nah," Frank said casually. "It's just this little bakery down the block." Joe almost laughed out loud.

"Cecelia's bakery?" he grinned, glancing at Frank out of the corner of his eye. "What happened to Mr. Careful?"

"Hey now," Frank responded seriously. "I don't see her in the picture."

"Point taken," Joe chuckled, reaching out to open the door for his brother as they approached. No sooner than the he had grabbed the handle did the tantalizing smell of baked goods intoxicate him. Joe inhaled and subsequently emitted a small moan of desire. Frank looked at him and sighed, giving him a pointed look.

"You literally just ate," Frank reminded him. Joe shrugged.

"It's been an exciting morning," Joe replied, eyes widening at the plethora of treats displayed before him. "I need to increase my intake of food in order to cope."

Frank, in an attempt to ignore his brother, charged forward to the counter. The young lady behind the glass smiled up at him.

"How can I help you today?" she asked sweetly, adjusting her flour-streaked apron.

"Hi," Frank replied, leaning on the counter. "We were just in the neighborhood and we were wondering if Cecelia is in today."

The girl looked behind her in response. "I think she's in the back room. Do you want me to go get her?"

"That would be great," Joe piped in, nudging Frank out of the way. "But may I ask what you are making there? It smells divine."

The girl looked at Frank, who shook his head. "Ignore him."

"Come on, Frank," Joe interjected, leaning on the counter. "We all know that ignoring me is neither something she can nor wants to do." He winked at the girl.

With a small giggle, she disappeared into the back room, leaving Frank and Joe alone.

Frank rolled his eyes and looked at Joe, who shrugged his shoulders innocently.

"I'm _really _hungry, Frank," Joe told his earnestly.

"That must be some sort of prostitution," Frank told him blandly, looking away from him. "Selling yourself for some bread."

"My life is just one long show of _Les Misérables_," Joe replied dramatically, looking up suddenly as footsteps approached. Cecelia looked at the brothers curiously.

"Hey," she said slowly, putting on a small smile. "What brings you here?"

"We've heard the legend of the coffee," Frank replied, smiling with as much charm as possible, "and we couldn't resist." Cecelia smiled more earnestly.

"I'll get you some," she replied, turning her back towards them. Joe tried to release some tension from his shoulders. Their last meeting hadn't been pleasant, but she didn't appear to be holding it against him. Or, at least, she didn't seem to want to let Frank in on it.

"How is David?" Joe asked casually, picking a string off of his shirt. "We went to check out the bookstore today but it wasn't open." Cecelia nodded as she grabbed some mugs.

"He doesn't usually open until twelve on Sundays," she replied, turning around and placing the steaming cups on the counter. "It's only been open for about a month, so he's still trying to figure things out."

"That's a shame," Frank told her, grabbing one of the cups gently and reaching into his pocket for his wallet. She shook her head.

"It's on me," she told him. "Friends of Nancy and all that jazz." Frank looked up at her. Her tone seemed genuinely friendly, but there was something hard in her eyes.

"Well, thank you," he said quietly. Joe nodded his thanks as well, reaching out for the other cup. There was a moment of silence between the three before Joe looked at her sincerely.

"So, how long have you and David been together for?" he asked, trying not to sound like the question was forced. Cecelia considered the question.

"About two and a half years, I suppose," she told him. "But we've been friends for much longer."

"Where did you guys meet?" Frank asked, taking a sip of the coffee and burning his mouth slightly. Cecelia gave a small smile.

"New York," she replied, busying herself by continuing the dough her employee had been working on. "That's where we lived up until a few weeks ago."

"I love New York," Joe nodded, taking a sip of his own coffee, internally damning himself for liking it. "Did you work in a bakery there?" She nodded again, throwing some flour on the counter.

"That's how I met David," she replied, looking up at him. "I worked in a bakery, he was in the bookstore next door; it was that kind of romantic comedy crap. But it's so hard to make it in the City, and River Heights has always seemed like home to me, so we made the decision to come back a few months ago."

"It must have been nice to be around family again," Frank replied. "Especially since you and Nancy were so close." Cecelia smiled tightly and continued kneading.

"It's just a shame that you didn't get to spend more time with her," Joe piped in, staring down into his coffee. After a moment of silence, he peered at her through his eyelashes. She was pressing her lips together tightly and staring down into the dough. Joe was certain that she was ready to lash out at him again, but instead she spoke quietly:

"It really was terrible."

Frank nodded, his eyebrows drawing together.

"But at least you had David to help you through it," he offered, leaning forwards on the counter. Cecelia inhaled shakily and nodded.

"Thank God," she replied, finally looking up at them. Her forehead was creased. "It would have been just awful otherwise."

"Did he know Nancy well?" Joe asked her. Cecelia glanced at him quickly before looking back down at the dough.

"They only met once," she shrugged. "But they really hit it off. I remember thinking how great it was going to be, all three of us as friends. It didn't really work out that way."

"I'm sorry," Joe said softly. "It must have been hard." Cecelia nodded, wiping her hands on her apron.

"I hate to seem like I don't want to talk," she told them, "but I've got a lot of work to do today and I just can't deal with it if I start crying again." The brothers nodded quickly, straightening up. Frank glanced at Joe; he could tell his brother felt terrible.

"Sorry to have bothered you," Joe apologized, placing his empty mug back on the counter. Cecelia shook her head.

"Don't be sorry," she replied, grabbing the mugs and putting them in the sink behind her. "I know that you guys meant a lot to Nancy, so it was nice to finally get to talk to you a bit."

The brothers nodded in silence.

"I guess we will be seeing you around," Frank said, raising his hand in goodbye. Cecelia nodded, wiping her hands on her apron. The Hardy's turned towards the door. Frank pushed it open for his brother, but when he turned around, Joe was back at the counter.

"We, uh," he started awkwardly, fishing around in his pocket, "found this picture at Nancy's house." He placed it on the counter timidly, looking over his shoulder at Frank.

"I know what you are thinking," she started, her eyes turning hard, "but that isn't David."

"It just looks an awful lot like him," Frank replied hurriedly, stepping away from the door and swiping the photo off of the counter. Cecelia shrugged.

"Sure," she replied, beginning to walk away. "But I know what you are implying, and I would suggest that you stop." With that, she disappeared into the back room. The brothers stared at each other guiltily before walking out.

"Well," Joe said loudly as they stepped onto the street. "That conversation took a turn rather quickly." Frank nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I can't tell if I buy it or not," he told Joe, who nodded.

"She definitely got a little cranky when she saw that photo," he pointed out.

"Which is understandable, considering she knows what we are accusing her boyfriend of," Frank replied, raising his eyebrows.

"There was not a single accusation in that exchange," Joe told him as they rounded the corner. "It was very pleasant in my opinion."

"Sure," Frank told him. "Definitely in my top ten list of conversations that were _definitely _not awkward." A beat passed.

"It was a _little_ awkward," Joe admitted, using his fingers to indicate how minuscule the degree of awkwardness was. "But that _may_ have been because of the last interaction I had with her."

"At the funeral?" Frank asked, looking at his brother. Joe shook his head guiltily.

"In front of the motel," he confessed, pulling together his brows. "I may have been very accusatory then." Frank sighed.

"Joe," he groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Why?"

"I was following a hunch!" Joe replied, raising his hands. "It was interesting, to say the least." Frank exhaled loudly again.

"Well, what-." He was cut off by his phone ringing obnoxiously in his pocket. After giving Joe a look that suggested that the conversation was not over, he glanced at the screen: it was Callie. Frank's heart dropped slightly. He had barely spoken to her since he left. Joe peered at the screen.

"What?" he asked his brother with confusion. "Aren't you going to answer it?"

Frank nodded and cleared his throat.

"Hello?" He answered, looking away from Joe.

"Hey," she replied, sounding surprised to hear his voice. "Hey. I, uh, I didn't know if I was going to be able to reach you. You've been missing a lot of my calls."

"I've been busy," Frank replied, his voice guilty. He could feel Joe's eyes on him and he stared at his feet as he walked.

"Are you doing alright?" she asked him, and he could picture her curled up on their couch, wrapped up in her favourite blanket. "I've been so worried."

"I'm doing the best I can," he replied honestly, feeling the pit in his stomach open up and fill with guilt. "It's not easy."

"I know, baby," Callie replied softly. "Just…don't forget that I am here for you. For anything."

"I know," he answered, swallowing hard. "I know that."

"Are you coming home soon?" she asked hopefully. "The house is really empty without you. I miss you a lot." Frank sighed.

"I hope so," he told her. "I mean, we've got to get things sorted out here first. I can't leave until we do."

"I understand," she told him quietly. "I mean, it's just hard without you here. There is so much stuff going on with all of the wedding plans. I don't want to make any decisions without you, so it's been tough…" Frank's stomach turned, and his stomach twinge in annoyance.

"Callie," he said harshly, "I don't really have time to think about the wedding right now. My best friend is dead."

"I didn't mean that—," Callie spoke up, her voice sounding shocked. Frank's annoyance suddenly turned to anger and he stopped dead in his tracks. How could she be concerned about the wedding when Nancy was dead?

"God, Callie, could you be more inconsiderate? Do you really think I want to be talking about what kind of flowers we should get right after I saw Nancy's coffin? You think it's tough planning a wedding? Well, it is a hell of a lot tougher to watch someone you care about get buried."

"I know, Frank, I didn't mean it like that," Callie rushed, her voice sounding teary. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it."

"Of course you didn't," Frank barked. "This is a really hard time for me, Callie; I don't have time for this crap."

"I know!" she cried. "But guess what, Frank? It's hard for me, too."

With a choked sound, Callie hung up, leaving Frank staring at the phone in his hand. He looked up, and felt his stomach drop at the sight of Joe's face. His brother was staring at him with a look of pure rage, his mouth hanging open in shock.

"What the hell, Frank?" he asked quietly and Frank recognized his tone as deadly. The elder Hardy chewed on his bottom lip. "Where do you get off thinking that you can talk to her like that?"

"Joe," Frank started, his face falling.

"No," Joe interrupted, shoving Frank's shoulder. "What the crap is wrong with you? You've been acting ridiculous ever since we got here. Crying one minute, quiet the next and now yelling at Callie. This isn't you! What is going on?"

"Joe, this is really hard on me," Frank pleaded, looking around at the empty street. "I don't want to do this here."

"No, we _are _doing this here," Joe told him, taking a step closer to him. "If we don't do this here, I know that we aren't ever going to do this. I can't keep acting like I don't notice something is wrong with you. Your attitude has been unbelievable. This is hard on _everyone_, Frank, not just you! You are delusional if you think that you are the only one hurting!"

"Please," Frank begged, unable to get out any more words. He felt sick to his stomach thinking about what he had just said to Callie. He knew that he had been wrong and he knew that he was being an ass, but what he was feeling…he didn't know how to deal with it.

"No, Frank," Joe retorted, feeling anger building up inside him again. "I'm sick of this. You're acting like you are the one who shot her! Tell me what is going on. Now."

"Joe," Frank croaked and with that, Joe saw more pain reflected in his brother's face than he ever had before. Joe opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. The air between them was intense. Joe swallowed hard.

"You loved Nancy," Joe said quietly, looking at his feet. Frank felt his stomach turn and his eyes widen. "Did you, Frank? Were you in love with Nancy?"

Frank didn't answer, instead looking down at the street in pain. Joe grabbed his shoulders and shook his slightly.

"Did you have feelings for her?" Joe demanded quietly, his throat throbbing. "God, do you even love Callie?"

"Of course," Frank replied quietly, his voice breaking. "God, of course I love Callie." Joe shut his eyes in relief.

"Then why would you talk to her like that?" Joe demanded, exhaling shakily.

"I don't know," Frank moaned, backing away from his brother and putting his head in his hands. "I mean, I love Callie, but Nancy…I've always…_thought_ about being with her. What it would be like. But now she's dead, Joe. She's dead and we weren't talking when she died…and knowing that is actually, physically killing me. I don't know what to do."

Joe, stomach in knots, stared at his brother, feeling the pain radiating off of him. Frank looked so hurt and so lost that it made him want to cry.

"I'm sorry, Frank," Joe told him, shaking his head. "I mean, Iknew you had a thing for her. I'm just…I'm sorry." Taking long strides, Joe walked over to his brother and hugged him tightly. To his immense relief, Frank hugged him back.

"I'm sorry," Frank mumbled, squeezing his brother. "I'm being an ass. I wasn't with Nancy. I'm with Callie. I made the decision to be with Callie and I don't know why I am letting this affect me so much."

"It's okay," Joe replied, pulling away. "I understand. Just…remember that. I loved Nancy, too. We're all dealing with this in different ways."

Frank nodded, his head aching. He knew Joe was right. He knew he loved Callie.

"I'm going to call her back," Frank said silently. Joe nodded, giving him a small smile. Frank walked away, staring down at the phone in his hand with intensity. Joe exhaled deeply and rubbed his eyes. His hands felt shaky. The emotional intensity of the past few days was rubbing off on him. He watched as Frank wandered down the sidewalk with sadness, but was startled as his own phone began to ring.

"Wrong number, Frank," Joe called, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Frank, phone pressed to his ear, looked over his shoulder with his brows creased and shook his head. Looking down at the screen, Joe couldn't help but smile when he saw that it was Bess.

"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Joe answered, shoving his free hand into his jacket pocket and shuffling his feet. "Have I won the lottery?"

"If that is the attitude you're going to have, this is going to be a very disappointing phone call," Bess replied. Joe grinned at his feet.

"What's up?" he asked, looking up to see Frank heading back towards him, not looking very happy.

"George and I wanted to know if you guys wanted to stop by for dinner tonight," Bess answered, her voice even but not nearly as enthusiastic as what Joe was used to hearing from her. "We were thinking about Chinese."

"Well, I could always eat," Joe told her earnestly, looking at Frank. _'Dinner,' _he mouthed to his brother, who nodded.

"That is what I thought," Bess said with a small chuckle. "Think you will be hungry around six?"

"I can tell you with the utmost honestly that I'm hungry right now," Joe started, "but I suppose I can survive until six."

"Perfect," Bess replied. A beat passed. "I've really wanted to talk to you guys. Not just about Nancy, but in general."

"We've missed you, too," Joe told her honestly, sighing sadly. "We'll see you at six." With that, he hung up and turned back to Frank.

"No luck with Callie?" he asked. A wave of sadness washed over him as Frank shook his head no. "Just give her some time."

"I shouldn't have yelled," Frank said, shaking his head. "It's my fault."

"I'm sure she understands, Frank," Joe replied, wrapping an arm around his brother's shoulders. "She'll call you back."

"I hope so," Frank nodded, his shoulders drooping. He felt like a complete idiot. As the brothers walked side by side, Frank could feel the weight of his decisions bearing down on him again, pressing in on every crevice of his body in a way that was smothering. He had hurt Nancy, and now he was hurting Callie. Shaking his head slightly, Frank bit back the urge to scream. He was supposed to be the level-headed brother, the one who was reliable and logical. Feeling so out of control with emotion was foreign to him and, the more he experienced it, the less he liked it.

Frank glanced over at Joe, wondering if his brother could see the emotions written on his face, but was surprised to see that he had taken a seat on a bench. Raising his eyebrows, he walked back towards him.

"I was wondering when you would notice you were taking a romantic stroll by yourself," Joe grinned up at him, arms crossed over his chest. Frank rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked impatiently, glaring down at him. Joe gestured towards the bench.

"Sit," he requested, scooting over. Frank scoffed.

"No," he replied. "Joe, I just want to lie down. I feel like I've been awake since Thursday. Please, just get up."

"Not until you sit down," Joe said in a sing-song voice. Frank rolled his eyes again and fell back onto the bench.

"You're so juvenile," he told his brother, shaking his head. "Can we leave now, or have you grown some sort of emotional attachment to this bench?"

"Look around," Joe said wistfully, leaning back. "Don't you know where we are?" Frank looked up and down the street.

"Yeah, I do," he replied. "We're freezing our asses off on a park bench. This is really moving for me, too." Joe shook his head.

"Come on, Frank. You have no idea?" Joe demanded, smiling softly. Frank shook his head again, his face irritated. "Let me set the scene for you: a warm, summer day…two bright young lads on the heels of adventure—one of them particularly attractive and always hilarious…driving down the street, hot in what they thought was the pursuit of a mass-murderer…"

Frank gave his brother an incredulous look, but then something clicked. He glanced in front of him again and his face fell.

"This is where we met Nancy," Frank said, almost to himself. "You crashed that stupid rental car into hers."

"That car," Joe said quietly, "was a masterpiece. The person who picked it out must have been a genius. But yeah, you're right."

The brothers sat in silence for a moment.

"I really miss her, Frank," Joe said, his voice small. He leaned forwards so that his elbows were resting on his knees. Frank nodded, his throat feeling tight.

"I know," he replied, sounding equally as pained.

"We've got to do this," Joe spoke up, looking at Frank. "We seriously need to kick some ass or I'm going to lose it. We've _got_ to find out who did this."

Frank looked at his brother and Joe was somewhat surprised at how fierce his eyes were.

"I agree," he said firmly. "We owe it to her." Joe smiled at his brother sadly before standing up.

"Come on," Joe said, pulling his brother to his feet. "We've got work to do."

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><p><strong>AN: Loooooong long chapter of rapid-fire emotion changes. I know that I usually have 'scene breaks' in my chapters, so to speak, but it just didn't turn out that way. I finally let Frank release some emotions, but don't think I've shot the elephant in the room yet. Ohh, no no…that is yet to come.**

**Also, in case you were wondering**** I shamelessly plugged my own story of how the boys met Nancy. It was written five (WHAT) years ago, when I was young and impressionable. Read it if you would like to see how I have matured, or to induce vomiting. Viewer discretion.**

**Finally, I will HOPEFULLY have another chapter up soon (but I know none of you take my promises seriously anymore) so keep your fingers crossed that all goes well. Thank you again!**

**Reviews?**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I own none of the familiar characters mentioned.**

**A/N: I'd just like to add a little note to the beginning of this chapter to clear some of the air; feel free to skip if you'd like! I really am stunned that I've still got people following this story still - I really am the world's worst updater! ****You've got to face the facts when you see realize that the last day the story was edited was a month ago and think, "That's quite respectable."****I had a very jarring moment earlier this week when I realized that I sent this fic into the world over TWO years ago. This is insane to think about. The past two years have been pretty rough - I've struggled with a number of familial issues and mental health problems (I am not using this as an excuse by any means) and coming back to this story has been something of a touchstone for me. I really do appreciate any continued support! (Also HAPPY NEW YEAR?!)**

**That being said, this is somewhat of a filler chapter - the real action that I've been promising starts up in the next chapter and I'm hoping it doesn't disappoint! This is just some writing I needed to get out of the way first.**

**Thanks to Lazy Panther, keelykelly, j, anon, Hallie, Leelee, MinecraftDanny, ACertainIdiotScientist and the Guest reviewer for reviewing! Enjoy:**

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><p>"Frank," Joe sighed heavily, swinging the bottle of wine they had just purchased in his hands haphazardously. "Can you at least pretend to be happy for like an hour?"<p>

"I'm fine," Frank replied blankly as they crossed the road towards Bess and George's apartment. Joe rolled his eyes, trying to keep up with the brisk pace that his brother was setting. There was a frigid edge in the air that bit at his cheeks, sending shivers down his spine.

"Let's try lying a little better once we get inside, shall we?" Joe retorted, pulling hard on the door to the apartment complex. "I doubt they would have invited you over if they knew you were going to mope around." Frank ignored him, jabbing his finger in to the elevator call button. Joe tapped his foot impatiently, looking around the swanky lobby, stopping only when he noticed his brother's death glare.

"My, my," Joe whistled under his breath as the elevator doors opened. "We're just going to suck the fun out of everything tonight, aren't we?"

"Knock it off, Joe," Frank sighed, leaning against the mirrored walls of the elevator and closing his eyes. Joe glanced down at the bottle of wine cradled in his arms and hugged it tightly to his chest like it was the only thing keeping him together. He wondered if anyone would miss it if he downed it right there in the elevator.

The doors opened and Frank stalked out, leaving Joe scurrying behind him. The younger brother winced as Frank knocked heavily on the door, rolling his head to give him a look of exasperation.

"Please," Joe moaned, bouncing slightly. "I thought we talked this out."

Frank opened his mouth to reply, but the door swung open and cut him off.

"Hi," Bess said breathlessly, leaning against the door frame and smiling at them. "Come in!" The boys shuffled in, single file, with Joe pausing to give Bess a quick kiss on the cheek and to hand her the wine.

"Wine and Chinese food," she said, shutting the door. "The upper-middle class meal of champions." Joe smirked at her.

"Nothing short of the best," he replied, nudging her softly with his elbow. She smiled at him and walked over to the kitchen, placing the bottle gently on the counter.

"Well," she started, turning her back and pulling out some glasses, "at least if we get wasted, we get wasted like the classy folk that we are." Joe chuckled and sat down on one of the stools arranged around the countertop.

"Swanky place you've got here, Miss Marvin," he sighed in admiration of the tastefully decorated apartment. She smiled at him as she poured the wine.

"I've got nothing if not good taste," she responded, handing him a glass. "Luckily I've got good taste and George, so that balances things out."

"Where is George?" Frank spoke up quietly. Both Bess and Joe's head shot towards him. He was standing by the refrigerator, scanning something with his eyes.

"She only got home right before you did, so she just hopped in the shower," Bess said by way of explanation. She crossed over to where Frank was standing with a glass in her hand, ready to offer it, but stopped in her tracks. Joe furrowed his brows. She placed the glass back on the counter. She leaned into Frank.

"That is a good picture, isn't it?"

Joe watched his brother's head nod stiffly and stood as his curiosity got the better of him.

Frank's hands were holding a picture gently by the edges, as if he would afraid touching it would make it disappear forever. He had seen lots of pictures of Nancy, but the one in his hands was truly breathtaking.

"Oh, yeah," Joe spoke up, leaning in to the middle. "She looks amazing." Bess nodded.

"I feel like I should take it down," she murmured, brushing a piece of light hair behind her ear and crossing her arms, "but I can't imagine never seeing that face again."

Joe gave her a sympathetic look, feeling his throat constrict painfully. Bess smiled tightly and looked up at Frank, whose own face was painfully blank. Her gaze returned to Joe, this time asking a question that Joe didn't know how to answer.

"You can keep it if you want," Bess told Frank hesitantly, opening her face up to him. Frank looked up from the picture, startled, as though he hadn't realized that Bess and Joe were right beside him.

"No," he coughed, handing it back to Bess. "No, thank you." Bess nodded slowly and placed it back up on the fridge, smoothing across the surface of it with her fingers as she did. They returned to the counter silently, settling back into their places before Joe spoke up.

"Speaking of pictures, Bess," he started, reaching into his pocket, "who is with Nancy in this one?" He placed the photo they had found earlier that day face up on the counter, sliding it towards her. She squinted at it in confusion.

"Oh, it's Johnathan!" she told them, pushing it back towards them. "Where did you find this?"

"Just around," Frank told her, now taking the glass from the counter and drinking from it. "Who is Johnathan?"

"Only every guy from every romantic-comedy ever."

The brothers looked to their right to see George approaching them, her hair damp and her eyes not quite matching the smile on her face. Bess nodded in agreement, but the brothers didn't notice. They were still taking in George's appearance with critical eyes and heavy hearts.

She didn't look any worse than she did at the funeral, Joe noted with relief, but she didn't look any better either. George seemed tired beyond the point of functionality: her eyes were weighed down with dark, heavy circles and her skin seemed pale and thin against the structure of her face. Her clothes hung loosely off of her, drowning her in a sea of fabric.

"He was Nancy's boyfriend," George explained further, seemingly unaware of the glances the brothers exchanged. She walked over to the fridge and paused with her hand on the handle. "They dated for a month or two before her…before she died."

Frank cringed at the crack in her voice. Regardless of the act she was putting up, George clearly was nowhere near coming to terms with Nancy's death.

_Neither are you_, a voice in his head said tauntingly. Frank shook his head slightly, trying to rid himself of the thought. George pulled a beer out of the fridge and stood beside Bess.

"He completely swept Nancy off of her feet," Bess continued, brushing her hair back again.

"And what she means by that is that he completely swept _Bess _off of her feet," George smirked, garnering a glare from Bess before the blonde cousin continued.

"He was always buying her things, taking her nice places…the whole shebang."

"Not that that ever impressed Nancy," George added, taking a long swing from her bottle. "It took more than that to get her attention." Joe nodded, giving a small smile.

"Either way, it didn't matter. Nancy never seemed to into him and they broke up a couple of weeks ago. He was moving away for business," Bess told them, taking a small sip from her glass.

"But what happened to Ned?" Frank blurted, clasping his hands together on the counter in front of him. To him, it didn't seem like an unreasonable question given the context of the conversation. It was also, coincidentally, a question that had been nagging him since they had arrived. He pretended not to notice the looks that the two cousins exchanged.

"We were never really sure," Bess said slowly, looking down at the counter. "There was no real warning signs. She never said anything leading up to it that would have suggested she had lost interest."

"So Nancy ended things?" Joe asked, and Frank felt eternally grateful towards his brother for picking up the questioning. It felt wrong for him to be asking.

George nodded, leaning forwards on her elbows. "One day, she just casually mentioned that they were no longer seeing each other. It took us forever to get a reason out of her."

_What was the reason?! _Frank screamed in his head. He hoped that he seemed casual enough on the outside.

"Oh, yeah?" Joe spoke up again, nodding. "Did she ever give you one?" Frank silently blessed his baby brother.

Bess and George glanced at each other again. Bess raised her eyebrows in a silent question, to which George gave a slight nod of her head.

"We weren't really sure what to think," Bess started, still looking at her cousin. "But she told us that she was pretty sure she was in love with someone else."

Out of the corner of his eye, Joe could see Frank's jaw tighten considerably. He looked at the glass in his hands and once again considered downing it in one gulp.

_She was in love with someone else. _

Frank's hands felt unsteady, so he clasped them together more tightly. That was the last thing he had wanted to hear.

_He had waited in the pool for a long time after Nancy had left. Her wet footsteps slowly began to dry and disappear. His skin started to wrinkle and only when he started shivering did he pull himself from the water._

_ He gathered his clothes and put them on shamefully, feeling them stick to his damp skin uncomfortably. The elevator ride up was long and painful. He stared at the floor so he wouldn't have to see his guilty face reflected back at him. _

_ When the doors opened, he immediately veered towards Nancy's room, placing his hands on the solid wood of the door. _ _He wondered if she would be asleep, but the quick breathing that he heard from the other side told him that she wasn't. _

_ He wanted to throw open the door and pull her into his arms. He wanted to kiss her until she forgot every syllable that he had spoken. He wanted to push her down on the bed and hold her in his arms until they both fell asleep. He wanted to wake up to her smiling at him. _

_ But instead, he made a decision. He walked back to his hotel room and laid tentatively on the bed. He spent hours awake, not knowing if he would ever sleep again. He woke up alone. And, of course, he never saw her smiling at him again._

"Frank?" Bess's voice shook him from his reverie. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, yeah," Frank croaked, pasting a smile onto his face. "I'm fine."

Of course, nobody believed that.

"You know," Joe began, stepping out of the apartment and into the bitterly cold air, "I didn't believe that you were alright for a second in there."

"I was fine, Joe," Frank replied softly, crossing the road towards where they had parked their rental car.

"Oh, were you?" Frank nodded his head. "Still not buying it, big brother."

"I was thinking about the case," Frank told him, clearing his throat. Joe considered his brother's face carefully, weighing the honestly behind his words.

"Alright then," Joe said quietly. The brothers climbed into their respective seats and settled in. "What were you thinking about?"

Frank paused with his hand on the key and leaned back, not starting the car quite yet. "Well…I think we need to talk to the families of the victims." Relief washed over him when Joe seemed to accept this answer.

"I agree," he said, leaning back in his seats. "But there isn't a chance in hell that they're going to talk to two random guys."

"What if we weren't random?" Frank responded, looking at his brother.

"And how would we go about that?" Joe asked, already knowing the answer. Frank sighed.

"We need to talk to Carson," the elder Hardy said, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "We need to get him on our side."

"Get him to hire us?" Joe questioned, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the window.

"In a matter of words, yes," Frank answered, turning the key in the ignition. The car slowly creaked to a start and began rolling down the street.

"I really have my doubts he is going to agree to this," Joe told his brother. "He isn't exactly the head of the Hardy fan club at the moment."

"What do you mean?" Frank asked, giving his brother a quick glance. Joe struggled to find the right words. If he revealed too much about what Carson had said, he knew that Frank would feel horrible. If he didn't say anything, Frank would certainly be suspicious.

"I mean, he just didn't seem too fond of anything concerning the word 'investigation' the last time we spoke," Joe said finally, looking towards his brother with hesitation. Frank's face seemed neutral, and finally in a good way.

"Then we will just have to convince him," Frank replied, his voice strong and confidant for the first time in a week.

"Great," Joe drawled sarcastically, looking back out of the window. "He's going to be so excited to see us.

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><p>When he saw the brothers standing outside of his door the next day, Carson seemed exhausted.<p>

"You're back," he said wearily, stepping out onto the front porch and closing the door behind him. "Did you forget something when searching for evidence?" The brothers exchanged guilty looks.

"How did you-?"

"Joe," Carson interrupted, closing his eyes. "You seem to forget that I've had some 20 years of experience with meddling kids."

"Well, I wouldn't call it meddling," Joe told him. "It's more of a thoughtful nosiness." Carson let a small smile grace his tired face.

"And I suppose that it is this thoughtful nosiness that brings you back today?" he asked them, crossing his arms.

"We do have something that we would like to ask you," Frank said hesitantly. Carson nodded and walked over to one of the chairs that was arranged on the front porch.

"It's kind of important," Joe added, looking around the street nervously. "Maybe something that would be best discussed inside." Carson rubbed his forehead and leaned back in his chair.

"There's no need," he replied bluntly, his eyes focused on the street in front of him. "Everyone already knows what is going on. There isn't any reason to hide."

This made Joe feel guilty. He unconsciously took a step back behind his brother, nudging him as he did. Frank looked back at his brother, understanding what he meant. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forwards.

"We want to investigate Nancy's death," he told the older man, feeling his eyes boring holes into him. "We want to find out who did this to her, and we can't do that without your approval." Carson considered this proposition for less than a second before answering.

"No."

Frank's eyes widened. He wasn't sure what he was expecting from Carson, but it wasn't that.

"Why not?" Joe blurted, stepping back in line with his brother. Carson shook his head, getting back to his feet.

"I don't mean to be unkind," he began, examining the empty street in front of him, "but it would be best if you didn't get involved."

"We already _are_ involved," Joe emphasized, feeling sudden determination. "Nancy was one of our best friends. We need to know who did this to her."

"And you will," Carson told him gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The police and the FBI are already investigating."

"But we have an advantage," Frank told him seriously. "They don't know Nancy the way we did. They don't understand the way her mind worked." Carson's eyes flipped to Frank with an intensity that made him feel uneasy.

"Just leave it to the professionals, boys," Carson whispered, breaking eye contact with Frank and walking back towards the house.

"We are the professionals," Joe pointed out, grabbing his shoulder to stop him from moving. "This is what we do, and we're damn good at it. You know it. Nancy knew it."

Frank could see Carson's shoulders rising and falling heavily with each breath. His eyes dropped to the ground, feeling shame wash over him. Everything he was feeling towards Nancy, he could only imagine Carson feeling ten times more. The last thing he wanted was to bother him, but he knew what had to be done.

"Mr. Drew," Frank began quietly, knowing that the older man was listening. "Let us do this. We all want the same thing. We want to find out what happened to Nancy and we want to make sure whoever did this gets what they deserve. Please, let us help."

The moment of silence that followed was excruciating. Joe looked at Frank helplessly, getting no relief from how his older brother shrugged his shoulders.

"Alright."

The word was spoken so silently that Joe thought he had imagined it. It was only when he saw the hope on his brother's face that he dared to believe it.

"Are you sure?" Joe asked hesitantly, afraid of spooking him off. Carson nodded his head slightly, his back still turned to them.

"Just…" Carson's voice cut off tightly. He coughed. "Just give them hell, boys."

Joe felt a grin crack his face.

"Oh, you can count on that," he told Carson and watched with the smallest degree of satisfaction as he disappeared back into his house with barely a second glance in their direction.

Joe waited until he and Frank were near the car before speaking up again. "That was better than expected."

"He's tired, Joe," Frank shrugged, climbing into the car. "He doesn't want to fight anymore. I think he's all fought out."

"Well," Joe sighed, "that certainly does make me feel like crap. But we're doing this for him, right?" Frank considered the question carefully, drawing his eyebrows together.

"We're doing it for someone," Frank answered finally, turning the key in the ignition. "I'm just not sure who yet."

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><p><strong>AN: Really quick filler chapter because I'm feeling sad about not updating and knowing that upcoming finals will deter me farther. Hopefully, though, their conclusion will bring upon a fresh mind and new ideas! Thanks again to everyone who continues to read despite my bad updating habits. I really do want to give this story the attention it deserves and the upcoming chapters are all planned out and full of the action you all have patiently waited for! **


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